ROXY  HARVESTING  AMONG  THE   KITCHENS 


PUDD'NHEAD  WILSON 

AND 

THOSE  EXTRAORDINARY  TWINS 


BY  MARK  TWAIN 


ILLUSTRATED 


HARPER    &   BROTHERS    PUBLISHERS 

NEW    YORK    AND     LONDON 


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THE  INNOCENTS  ABROAD 

ROUGHING  IT 

THE  GILDED  AGE 

A  TRAMP  ABROAD 

FOLLOWING  THE  EQUATOR 

PUDD'NHEAD  WILSON 

SKETCHES  NEW  AND  OLD 

THE  AMERICAN  CLAIMANT 

CHRISTIAN  SCIENCE 

A  CONNECTICUT  YANKEE  AT  THE  COURT  OF 

KING  ARTHUR 

THE  ADVENTURES  OF  HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 
PERSONAL  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  JOAN  OF  ARC 
LIFE  ON  THE  MISSISSIPPI 

THE  MAN  THAT  CORRUPTED  HADLEYBURG 
THE  PRINCE  AND  THE  PAUPER 
THE  $30,000  BEQUEST 
THE  ADVENTURES  OF  TOM  SAWYER 
TOM  SAWYER  ABROAD 
WHAT  IS  MAN? 
THE  MYSTERIOUS  STRANGER 
ADAM'S  DIARY 
A  DOG'S  TALE 

A  DOUBLE-BARRELED  DETECTIVE  STORY 
EDITORIAL  WILD  OATS 
EVE'S  DIARY 
IN    DEFENSE    OF    HARRIET    SHELLEY    AND 

OTHER  ESSAYS 
IS  SHAKESPEARE  DEAD? 
CAPT.  STORMFIELD'S  VISIT  TO  HEAVEN 
A  HORSE'S  TALE 
THE  JUMPING  FROG 
THE  £1,000,000  BANK-NOTE 
TRAVELS  AT  HOME 
TRAVELS  IN  HISTORY 
MARK  TWAIN'S  LETTERS 
MARK  TWAIN'S  SPEECHES 


HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK 
[ESTABLISHED  1817] 


PUDD'NHEAD  WILSON 

Copyright,  1893-1894,  by  the  CENTURY  COMPANY  in  the  Century  Magazir 
Copyright,  1894  and  1899,  by  OLIVIA  L.  CLEMENS 

Copyright,  1922,  by  the  MARK  TWAIN  Co. 

The  right  of  dramatization  and  translation  reserved 

Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


P5 

1317 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  ,AGE 

A  WHISPER  TO  THE  READER xiii 

I.  PUDD'NHEAD  WINS  His  NAME i 

II.  DRISCOLL  SPARES  His  SLAVES 8 

III.  ROXY  PLAYS  A  SHREWD  TRICK 18 

IV.  THE  WAYS  OF  THE  CHANGELINGS 26 

V.  THE  TWINS  THRILL  DAWSON'S  LANDING     ....  37 

VI.  SWIMMING  IN  GLORY 44 

VII.  THE  UNKNOWN  NYMPH 51 

VIII.  MARSE  TOM  TRAMPLES  His  CHANCE       .....  56 

IX.  TOM  PRACTISES  SYCOPHANCY 69 

X.  THE  NYMPH  REVEALED 76 

XI.  PUDD'NHEAD'S  STARTLING  DISCOVERY 83 

XII.  THE  SHAME  OF  JUDGE  DRISCOLL 101 

XIII.  TOM  STARES  AT  RUIN 108 

XIV.  ROXANA  INSISTS  UPON  REFORM 117 

XV.  THE  ROBBER  ROBBED 130 

XVI.  SOLD  DOWN  THE  RIVER 142 

XVII.  THE  JUDGE  UTTERS  DIRE  PROPHECY 147 

XVIII.  ROXANA  COMMANDS 150 

XIX.  THE  PROPHECY  REALIZED       164 

XX.  THE  MURDERER  CHUCKLES 176 

XXI.  DOOM .    .    .  186 

THOSE  EXTRAORDINARY  TWINS 

I.  THE  TWINS  AS  THEY  REALLY  WERE 205 

II.  MA  COOPER  GETS  ALL  MIXED  UP 223 

III.  ANGELO  is  BLUE 234 


CONTENTS 


CHAP.  PAGfi- 

IV.  SUPERNATURAL  CHRONOMETRY       239 

V.  GUILT  AND  INNOCENCE  FINELY  BLENT 250 

VI.  THE  AMAZING  DUEL 270 

VII.  LUIGI  DEFIES  GALEN       278 

VIII.  BAPTISM  OF  THE  BETTER  HALF 286 

IX.  THE  DRINKLESS  DRUNK 290 

X.  So  THEY  HANGED  LUIGI 293 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

ROXY  HARVESTING  AMONG  THE  KITCHENS    .      .      .       Frontispiect 

"MAKE  THE   FINGER   PRINTS  THAT  WILL  HANG 

YOU " Facing  p.  200 

"  I  THOUGHT  I  WOULD  WRITE  A  LITTLE   STORY  "  .  "       ZoS 


A  WHISPER   TO   THE    READER 

There  is  no  character,  howsoever  good  and  fine,  but  it  can  be 
destroyed  by  ridicule,  howsoever  poor  and  witless.  Observe 
the  ass,  for  instance:  his  character  is  about  perfect,  he  is  the 
choicest  spirit  among  all  the  humbler  animals,  yet  see  what 
ridicule  has  brought  him  to.  Instead  of  feeling  complimented 
when  we  are  called  an  ass,  we  are  left  in  doubt. 

— Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

A  PERSON  who  is  ignorant  of  legal  matters  is 
always  liable  to  make  mistakes  when  he  tries  to 
photograph  a  court  scene  with  his  pen;  and  so  I 
was  not  willing  to  let  the  law  chapters  in  this  book 
go  to  press  without  first  subjecting  them  to  rigid  and 
exhausting  revision  and  correction  by  a  trained 
barrister — if  that  is  what  they  are  called.  These 
chapters  are  right  now  in  every  detail,  for  they  were 
rewritten  under  the  immediate  eye  of  William 
Hicks,  who  studied  law  part  of  a  while  in  southwest 
Missouri  thirty-five  years  ago  and  then  came  over 
here  to  Florence  for  his  health  and  is  still  helping 
for  exercise  and  board  in  Macaroni  Vermicelli's 
horse-feed  shed  which  is  up  the  back  alley  as  you 
turn  around  the  corner  out  of  the  Piazza  del  Duomo 
just  beyond  the  house  where  that  stone  that  Dante 
used  to  sit  on  six  hundred  years  ago  is  let  into  the 
waU  when  he  let  on  to  be  watching  them  build 


A   WHISPER    TO    THE    READER 

Giotto's  campanile  and  yet  always  got  tired  looking 
as  soon  as  Beatrice  passed  along  on  her  way  to  get 
a  chunk  of  chestnut  cake  to  defend  herself  with  in 
case  of  a  Ghibelline  outbreak  before  she  got  to 
school,  at  the  same  old  stand  where  they  sell  the 
same  old  cake  to  this  day  and  it  is  just  as  light  and 
good  as  it  was  then,  too,  and  this  is  not  flattery,  far 
from  it.  He  was  a  little  rusty  on  his  law,  but  he 
rubbed  up  for  this  book,  and  those  two  or  three 
legal  chapters  are  right  and  straight  now.  He  told 
me  so  himself. 

Given  under  my  hand  this  second  day  of  January, 
1893,  at  the  Villa  Viviani,  village  of  Settignano, 
three  miles  back  of  Florence,  on  the  hills — the  same 
certainly  affording  the  most  charming  view  to  be 
found  on  this  planet,  and  with  it  the  most  dream- 
like and  enchanting  sunsets  to  be  found  in  any 
planet  or  even  in  any  solar  system — and  given, 
too,  in  the  swell  room  of  the  house,  with  the  busts 
of  Cerretani  senators  and  other  grandees  of  this 
line  looking  approvingly  down  upon  me  as  they 
used  to  look  down  upon  Dante,  and  mutely  asking 
me  to  adopt  them  into  my  family,  which  I  do  with 
pleasure,  for  my  remotest  ancestors  are  but  spring 
chickens  compared  with  these  robed  and  stately 
antiques,  and  it  will  be  a  great  and  satisfying  lift 
for  me,  that  six  hundred  years  will. 

MARK  TWAIN. 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 


CHAPTER  I 

Tell  the  truth  or  trump — but  get  the  trick. 

— Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

THE  scene  of  this  chronicle  is  the  town  of  Daw- 
son's   Landing,   on   the   Missouri   side  of   the 
Mississippi,   half  a  day's  journey,  per  steamboat, 
below  St.  Louis. 

In  1830  it  was  a  snug  little  collection  of  modest 
one  and  two-story  frame  dwellings  whose  white- 
washed exteriors  were  almost  concealed  from  sight 
by  climbing  tangles  of  rose  vines,  honeysuckles,  and 
morning-glories.  Each  of  these  pretty  homes  had  a 
garden  in  front  fenced  with  white  palings  and  opu- 
lently stocked  with  hollyhocks,  marigolds,  touch- 
me-nots,  prince's-feathers,  and  other  old-fashioned 
flowers;  while  on  the  window-sills  of  the  houses 
stood  wooden  boxes  containing  moss-rose  plants  and 
terra-cotta  pots  in  which  grew  a  breed  of  geranium 
whose  spread  of  intensely  red  blossoms  accented  the 
prevailing  pink  tint  of  the  rose-clad  house-front  like 
an  explosion  of  flame.  When  there  was  room  on 
the  ledge  outside  of  the  pots  and  boxes  for  a  cat, 


MARK     TWAIN 

the  cat  was  there — in  sunny  weather — stretched  at 
full  length,  asleep  and  blissful,  with  her  furry  belly 
to  the  sun  and  a  paw  curved  over  her  nose.  Then 
that  house  was  complete,  and  its  contentment  and 
peace\vere  made  manifest  to  the  world  by  this 
Csy_mbolJ)  whose  testimony  is  infallible.  A  home 
without  a  cat — and  a  well-fed,  well-petted  and  prop- 
erly revered  cat — may  be  a  perfect  home,  perhaps, 
but  how  can  it  prove  title? 

All  along  the  streets,  on  both  sides,  at  the  outer 
edge  of  the  brick  sidewalks,  stood  locust-trees  with 
trunks  protected  by  wooden  boxing,  and  these  fur- 
nished shade  for  summer  and  a  sweet  fragrance  in 
spring  when  the  clusters  of  buds  came  forth.  The 
main  street,  one  block  back  from  the  river,  and  run- 
ning parallel  with  it,  was  the  sole  business  street. 
It  was  six  blocks  long,  and  in  each  block  two  or 
three  brick  stores  three  stories  high  towered  above 
interjected  bunches  of  little  frame  shops.  Swinging 
signs  creaked  in  the  wind,  the  street's  whole  length. 
The  candyj-striped  pole,  which  indicates  nobility 
proud  and  anaenT"aIong  the  palace-bordered  canals 
of  Venice,  indicated  merely  the  humble  barber  shop 
along  the  main  street  of  Dawson's  Landing.  On  a 
chief  corner  stood  a  lofty  unpainted  pole  wreathed 
from  top  to  bottom  with  tin  pots  and  pans  and  cups, 
the  chief  tinmonger's  noisy  notice  to  the  world 
(when  the  wind  blew)  that  his  shop  was  on  hand  for 
business  at  that  corner. 

The  hamlet's  front  was  washed  by  the  clear  waters 
of  the  great  river;  its  body  stretched  itself  rearward 
up  a  gentle  incline ;  its  most  rearward  border  fringec1 


PUDDN'HEAD    WILSON 

itself  out  and  scattered  its  houses  about  the  base- 
line of  the  hills;  the  hills  rose  high,  inclosing  the 
town  in  a  half -moon  curve,  clothed  with  forests  from 
foot  to  summit. 

Steamboats  passed  up  and  down  every  hour  or 
so.  Those  belonging  to  the  little  Cairo  line  and  the 
little  Memphis  line  always  stopped;  the  big  Orleans 
liners  stopped  for  hails  only,  or  to  land  passengers 
or  freight ;  and  this  was  the  case  also  with  the  great 
flotilla  of  "transients."  These  latter  came  out  of  a 
dozen  rivers — the  Illinois,  the  Missouri,  the  Upper 
Mississippi,  the  Ohio,  the  Monongahela,  the  Ten- 
nessee, the  Red  River,  the  White  River,  and  so  on; 
and  were  bound  every  whither  and  stocked  with 
every  imaginable  comfort  or  necessity  which  the 
Mississippi's  communities  could  want,  from  the 
frosty  Falls  of  St.  Anthony  down  through  nine 
climates  to  torrid  New  Orleans. 

Dawson's  Landing  was  a  slaveholding  town,  with 
a  rich  slave- worked  grain  and  pork  country  back  of 
it.  The  town  was  sleepy  and  comfortable  and  con- 
tented. It  was  fifty  years  old,  and  was  growing 
slowly — very  slowly,  in  fact,  but  still  it  was  growing. 

The  chief  citizen  was  York  Leicester  Driscoll, 
about,  forty  years  old,  judge  of  the  county  court. 
He  was  very  proud  of  his  old  Virginian  ancestry, 
and  in  his  hospitalities  and  his  rather  formal  and 
stately  manners  he  kept  up  its  traditions.  He  was 
fine  and  just  and  generous.  To  be  a  gentleman — a 
gentleman  without  stain  or  blemish — was  his  only 
religion,  and  to  it  he  was  always  faithful.  He  was 
respected,  esteemed,  and  beloved  by  all  the  com- 
3 


MARK     TWAIN 

munity.  He  was  well  off,  and  was  gradually  adding 
to  his  store.  He  and  his  wife  were  very  nearly 
happy,  but  not  quite,  for  they  had  no  children. 
The  longing  for  the  treasure  of  a  child  had  grown 
stronger  and  stronger  as  the  years  slipped  away,  but 
the  blessing  never  came — and  was  never  to  come. 

With  this  pair  lived  the  Judge's  widowed  sister, 
Mrs.  Rachel  Pratt,  and  she  also  was  childless — 
childless,  and  sorrowful  for  that  reason,  and  not  to 
be  comforted.  The  women  were  good  and  common- 
place people,  and  did  their  duty  and  had  their  re- 
ward in  clear  consciences  and  the  community's 
approbation.  They  were  Presbyterians,  the  Judge 
was  a  free-thinker. 

Pembroke  Howard,  lawyer  and  bachelor  aged 
about  forty,  was  another  old  Virginian  grandee  with 
proved  descent  from  the  First  Families.  He  was  a 
fine,  brave,  majestic  creature,  a  gentleman  according 
to  the  nicest  requirements  of  the  Virginia  rule,  a 
devoted  Presbyterian,  an  authority  on  the  "code," 
and  a  man  always  courteously  ready  to  stand  up 
before  you  in  the  field  if  any  act  or  word  of  his  had 
seemed  doubtful  or  suspicious  to  you,  and  explain 
it  with  any  weapon  you  might  prefer  from  brad-awls 
to  artillery.  He  was  very  popular  with  the  people, 
and  was  the  Judge's  dearest  friend. 

Then  there  was  Colonel  Cecil  Burleigh  Essex, 
another  F.  F.  V.  of  formidable  caliber — however, 
with  him  we  have  no  concern. 

Percy  Northumberland  Driscoll,  brother  to  the 
Judge,  and  younger  than  he  by  five  years,  was  a 
married  man,  and  had  had  children  around  his 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

hearthstone;  but  they  were  attacked  in  detail  by 
measles,  croup,  and  scarlet  fever,  and  this  had  given 
the  doctor  a  chance  with  his  effective  antediluvian 
methods;  so  the  cradles  were  empty.  He  was  a 
prosperous  man,  with  a  good  head  for  speculations, 
and  his  fortune  was  growing.  On  the  ist  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1830,  two  boy  babes  were  born  in  his  house; 
one  to  him,  the  other  to  one  of  his  slave  girls,  Roxana 
by  name.  Roxana  was  twenty  years  old.  She  was 
up  and  around  the  same  day,  with  her  hands  full, 
for  she  was  tending  both  babies. 

Mrs.  Percy  Driscoll  died  within  the  week.  Roxy 
remained  in  charge  of  the  children.  She  had  her 
own  way,  for  Mr.  Driscoll  soon  absorbed  himself  in 
his  speculations  and  left  her  to  her  own  devices. 

In  that^same  month  of  February,  Dawson's  Land- 
ing gained  a  new  citizen.  This  was  Mr.  David 
Wilson,  a  young  fellow  of  Scotch  parentage.  He 
had  wandered  to  this  remote  region  from  his  birth- 
place in  the  interior  of  the  state  of  New  York,  to 
seek  his  fortune.  He  was  twenty-five  years  old, 
college-bred,  and  had  finished  a  post-college  course 
in  an  Eastern  law  school  a  couple  of  years  before. 

He  was  a  homely,  freckled,  sandy-haired  young 
fellow,  with  an  intelligent  blue  eye  that  had  frank- 
ness and  comradeship  in  it  and  a  covert  twinkle  of  a 
pleasant  sort.  But  for  an  unfortunate  remark  of 
his,  he  would  no  doubt  have  entered  at  once  upon 
a  successful  career  at  Dawson's  Landing.  But  he 
made  his  fatal  remark  the  first  day  he  spent  in  the 
village,  and  it  "gaged"  him.  He  had  just  made 
the  acquaintance  of  a  group  of  citizens  when  an 
5 


MARK    TWAIN 

invisible  dog  began  to  yelp  and  snarl  and  howl  and 
make  himself  very  comprehensively  disagreeable, 
whereupon  young  Wilson  said,  much  as  one  who  is 
thinking  aloud: 

"I  wish  I  owned  half  of  that  dog." 

"Why?"  somebody  asked. 

"Because  I  would  kill  my  half." 

The  group  searched  his  face  with  curiosity,  with 
anxiety  even,  but  found  no  light  there,  no  expres- 
sion that  they  could  read.  They  fell  away  from  him 
as  from  something  uncanny,  and  went  into  privacy 
to  discuss  him.  One  said : 

"'Pears  to  be  a  fool." 

"Tears?"  said  another.  "Is,  I  reckon  you  bet- 
ter say." 

"Said  he  wished  he  owned  half  of  the  dog,  the 
idiot,"  said  a  third.  "What  did  he  reckon  would 
become  of  the  other  half  if  he  killed  his  half?  Do 
you  reckon  he  thought  it  would  live?" 

"Why,  he  must  have  thought  it,  unless  he  is  the 
downrightest  fool  in  the  world;  because  if  he  hadn't 
thought  it,  he  would  have  wanted  to  own  the  whole 
dog,  knowing  that  if  he  killed  his  half  and  the  other 
half  died,  he  would  be  responsible  for  that  half  just 
the  same  as  if  he  had  killed  that  half  instead  of  his 
own.  Don't  it  look  that  way  to  you,  gents?" 

Yes,  it  does.  If  he  owned  one  half  of  the  general 
dog,  it  would  be  so;  if  he  owned  one  end  of  the  dog 
and  another  person  owned  the  other  end,  it  would 
be  so,  just  the  same;  particularly  in  the  first  case, 
because  if  you  kill  one  half  of  a  general  dog,  there 
ain't  any  man  that  can  tell  whose  half  it  was,  but 
6 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

if  he  owned  one  end  of  the  dog,  maybe  he  could 
kill  his  end  of  it  and — " 

"No,  he  couldn't,  either;  he  couldn't  and  not  bo 
responsible  if  the  other  end  died,  which  it  would. 
In  my  opinion  the  man  ain't  in  his  right  mind." 

"In  my  opinion  he  hain't  got  any  mind." 

No.  3  said:  "Well,  he's  a  lummox,  anyway." 

"That's  what  he  is,"  said  No.  4,  "he's  a  labrick 
— just  a  Simon-pure  labrick,  if  ever  there  was  one." 

"Yes,  sir,  he's  a  dam  fool,  that's  the  way  I  put 
him  up,"  said  No.  5.  "Anybody  can  think  different 
that  wants  to,  but  those  are  my  sentiments." 

"I'm  with  you,  gentlemen,"  said  No.  6.  "Per- 
fect jackass — yes,  and  it  ain't  going  too  far  to  say 
he  is  a  pudd'nhead.  If  he  ain't  a  pudd'nhead,  I 
ain't  no  judge,  that's  all." 

Mr.  Wilson  stood  elected.  The  incident  was  told 
all  over  the  town,  and  gravely  discussed  by  every- 
body. Within  a  week  he  had  lost  his  first  name; 
Pudd'nhead  took  its  place.  In  time  he  came  to  be 
liked,  and  well  liked,  too;  but  by  that  time  the 
nickname  had  got  well  stuck  on,  and  it  stayed. 
That  first  day's  verdict  made  him  a  fool,  and  he 
was  not  able  to  get  it  set  aside,  or  even  modified. 
The  nickname  soon  ceased  to  carry  any  harsh  or 
unfriendly  feeling  with  it,  but  it  held  its  place,  and 
was  to  continue  to  hold  its  place  for  twenty  long 
years. 


CHAPTER  II 

Adam  was  but  human — this  explains  it  all.  He  did  not  want 
the  apple  for  the  apple's  sake,  he  wanted  it  only  because  it  was 
forbidden.  The  mistake  was  in  not  forbidding  the  serpent; 
then  he  would  have  eaten  the  serpent. 

— Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

PUDD'NHEAD  WILSON  had  a  trifle  of  money 
1  when  he  arrived,  and  he  bought  a  small  house 
on  the  extreme  western  verge  of  the  town.  Between 
it  and  Judge  Driscoll's  house  there  was  only  a  grassy 
yard,  with  a  paling  fence  dividing  the  properties  in 
the  middle.  He  hired  a  small  office  down  in  the 
town  and  hung  out  a  tin  sign  with  these  words  on  it : 

DAVID  WILSON 

ATTORNEY   AND   COUNSELOR- AT-LAW 
SURVEYING,    CONVEYANCING,    ETC. 

But  his  deadly  remark  had  ruined  his  chance — at 
least  in  the  law.  No  clients  came.  He  took  down 
his  sign  after  a  while  and  put  it  up  on  his  own  house 
with  the  law  features  knocked  out  of  it.  It  offered 
his  services  now  in  the  humble  capacities  of  land- 
surveyor  and  expert  accountant.  Now  and  then  he 
got  a  job  of  surveying  to  do,  and  now  and  then  a 
merchant  got  him  to  straighten  out  his  books.  With 
Scotch  patience  and  pluck  he  resolved  to  live  down 


PUDD'NHEAD   WILSON 

his  reputation  and  work  his  way  into  the  legal  field 
yet.  Poor  fellow!  he  could  not  foresee  that  it  was 
going  to  take  him  such  a  weary  long  time  to  do  it. 
He  had  a  rich  abundance  of  idle  time,  but  it  never 
hung  heavy  on  his  hands,  for  he  interested  himself 
in  every  new  thing  that  was  born  into  the  universe 
of  ideas,  and  studied  it  and  experimented  upon  it  at 
his  house.  One  of  his  pet  fads  was  palmistry.  To 
another  one  he  gave  no  name,  neither  would  he 
explain  to  anybody  what  its  purpose  was,  but  merely 
said  it  was  an  amusement.  In  fact,  he  had  found 
that  his  fads  added  to  his  reputation  as  a  pudd'n- 
head;  therefore  he  was  growing  chary  of  being  too 
communicative  about  them.  The  fad  without  a 
name  was  one  which  dealt  with  people's  finger- 
marks. He  carried  in  his  coat  pocket  a  shallow 
box  with  grooves  in  it,  and  in  the  grooves  strips  of 
glass  five  inches  long  and  three  inches  wide.  Along 
the  lower  edge  of  each  strip  was  pasted  a  slip  of 
white  paper.  He  asked  people  to  pass  their  hands 
through  their  hair  (thus  collecting  upon  them  a  thin 
coating  of  the  natural  oil)  and  then  make  a  thumb- 
mark  on  a  glass  strip,  following  it  with  the  mark  of 
the  ball  of  each  finger  in  succession.  Under  this 
row  of  faint  grease-prints  he  would  write  a  record 
on  the  strip  of  white  paper — thus: 

JOHN  SMITH,  right  hand — 

and  add  the  day  of  the  month  and  the  year,  then 
take  Smith's  left  hand  on  another  glass  strip,  and 
add  name  and  date  and  the  words  "left  hand." 
The  strips  were  now  returned  to  the  grooved  box, 
2  9 


MARK    TWAIN 

and  took  their  place  'among  what  Wilson  called  his 
"records." 

He  often  studied  his  records,  examining  and 
poring  over  them  with  absorbing  interest  until  far 
into  the  night ;  but  what  he  found  there — if  he  found 
anything — he  revealed  to  no  one.  Sometimes  he 
copied  on  paper  the  involved  and  delicate  pattern 
left  by  the  ball  of  a  finger,  and  then  vastly  en- 
larged it  with  a  pantograph  so  that  he  could  examine 
its  web  of  curving  lines  with  ease  and  convenience. 

One  sweltering  afternoon — it  was  the  first  day  of 
July,  1830 — he  was  at  work  over  a  set  of  tangled 
account-books  in  his  workroom,  which  looked  west- 
ward over  a  stretch  of  vacant  lots,  when  a  conver- 
sation outside  disturbed  him.  It  was  carried  on  in 
yells,  which  showed  that  the  people  engaged  in  it 
were  not  close  together: 

"Say,  Roxy,  how  does  yo'  baby  come  on?"  This 
from  the  distant  voice. 

"Fust-rate;  how  does  you  come  on,  Jasper?" 
This  yell  was  from  close  by. 

"Oh,  I's  middlin';  hain't  got  noth'n"  to  com- 
plain of.  I's  gwine  to  come  a-court'n'  you  bimeby, 
Roxy." 

"You  is,  you  black  mudcat!  Yah — yah — yah! 
I  got  somep'n'  better  to  do  den  'sociat'n'  wid  niggers 
as  black  as  you  is.  Is  ole  Miss  Cooper's  Nancy 
done  give  you  de  mitten?"  Roxy  followed  this 
sally  with  another  discharge  of  care-free  laughter. 

"You's  jealous,  Roxy,  dat's  what's  de  matter  wid 
you,  you  hussy — yah — yah — yah!  Dat's  de  time 
I  got  you!" 

10 


PUDD'NHEAD   WILSON 

"Oh,  yes,  you  got  me,  hain't  you.  'Clah  to 
goodness  if  dat  conceit  o'  yo'n  strikes  in,  Jasper,  it 
gwine  to  kill  you  sho'.  If  you  b'longed  to  me  I'd 
sell  you  down  de  river  'fo'  you  git  too  fur  gone. 
Fust  time  I  runs  acrost  yo'  marster,  I's  gwine  to 
tell  him  so." 

This  idle  and  aimless  jabber  went  on  and  on,  both 
parties  enjoying  the  friendly  duel  and  each  well 
satisfied  with  his  own  share  of  the  wit  exchanged — 
for  wit  they  considered  it. 

Wilson  stepped  to  the  window  to  observe  the 
combatants;  he  could  not  work  while  their  chatter 
continued.  Over  in  the  vacant  lots  was  Jasper, 
young,  coal-black,  and  of  magnificent  build,  sitting 
on  a  wheelbarrow  in  the  pelting  sun — at  work,  sup- 
posably,  whereas  he  was  in  fact  only  preparing  for 
it  by  taking  an  hour's  rest  before  beginning.  In 
front  of  Wilson's  porch  stood  Roxy,  with  a  local 
hand-made  baby-wagon,  in  which  sat  her  two 
charges — one  at  each  end  and  facing  each  other. 
From  Roxy's  manner  of  speech,  a  stranger  would 
have  expected  her  to  be  black,  but  she  was  not. 
Only  one-sixteenth  of  her  was  black,  and  that  six- 
teenth did  not  show.  She  was  of  majestic  form  and 
stature,  her  attitudes  were  imposing  and  statuesque, 
and  her  gestures  and  movements  distinguished  by  a 
noble  and  stately  grace.  Her  complexion  was  very 
fair,  with  the  rosy  glow  of  vigorous  health  in  the 
cheeks,  her  face  was  full  of  character  and  expres- 
sion, her  eyes  were  brown  and  liquid,  and  she  had  a 
heavy  suit  of  fine  soft  hair  which  was  also  brown, 
but  the  fact  was  not  apparent  because  her  head  was 
ii 


MARK    TWAIN 

bound  about  with  a  checkered  handkerchief  and  the 
hair  was  concealed  under  it.  Her  face  was  shapely, 
intelligent,  and  comely — even  beautiful.  She  had  an 
easy,  independent  carriage — when  she  was  among 
her  own  caste — and  a  high  and  "sassy"  way,  withal; 
but  of  course  she  was  meek  and  humble  enough 
where  white  people  were. 

To  all  intents  and  purposes  Roxy  was  as  white  as 
anybody,  but  the  one-sixteenth  of  her  which  was 
black  outvoted  the  other  fifteen  parts  and  made  her 
a  negro.  She  was  a  slave,  and  salable  as  such.  Her 
child  was  thirty-one  parts  white,  and  he,  too,  was  a 
slave,  and  by  a  fiction  of  law  and  custom  a  negro. 
He  had  blue  eyes  and  flaxen  curls  like  his  white  com- 
rade, but  even  the  father  of  the  white  child  was 
able  to  tell  the  children  apart — little  as  he  had 
commerce  with  them — by  their  clothes ;  for  the  white 
babe  wore  ruffled  soft  muslin  and  a  coral  necklace, 
while  the  other  wore  merely  a  coarse  tow-linen  shirt 
which  barely  reached  to  its  knees,  and  no  jewelry. 

The  white  child's  name  was  Thomas  &  Becket 
Driscoll,  the  other's  name  was  Valet  de  Chambre; 
no  surname — slaves  hadn't  the  privilege.  Roxana 
had  heard  that  phrase  somewhere,  the  fine  sound  of 
it  had  pleased  her  ear,  and  as  she  had  supposed  it 
was  a  name,  she  loaded  it  onto  her  darling.  It  soon 
got  shortened  to  "Chambers,"  of  course. 

Wilson  knew  Roxy  by  sight,  and  when  the  duel 
of  wit  began  to  play  out,  he  stepped  outside  to 
gather  in  a  record  or  two.  Jasper  went  to  work 
energetically,  at  once,  perceiving  that  his  leisure  was 
observed.  Wilson  inspected  the  children  and  asked : 

12 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

"How  old  are  they,  Roxy?" 

"Bofe  de  same  age,  sir — five  months.  Bawn  de 
fust  o'  Feb'uary." 

"They're  handsome  little  chaps.  One's  just  as 
handsome  as  the  other,  too." 

A  delighted  smile  exposed  the  girl's  white  teeth, 
and  she  said: 

"Bless  yo'  soul,  Misto  Wilson,  it's  pow'ful  nice 
o'  you  to  say  dat,  'ca'se  one  of  'em  ain't  on'y  a 
nigger.  Mighty  prime  little  nigger,  /  al'ays  says, 
but  dat's  'ca'se  it's  mine,  o'  course." 

"How  do  you  tell  them  apart,  Roxy,  when  they 
haven't  any  clothes  on?" 

Roxy  laughed  a  laugh  proportioned  to  her  size, 
and  said : 

"Oh,  I  kin  tell  'em  'part,  Misto  Wilson,  but  I 
bet  Marse  Percy  couldn't,  not  to  save  his  life." 

Wilson  chatted  along  for  a  while,  and  presently 
got  Roxy's  finger-prints  for  his  collection — right 
hand  and  left — on  a  couple  of  his  glass  strips;  then 
labeled  and  dated  them,  and  took  the  "records"  of 
both  children,  and  labeled  and  dated  them  also. 

Two  months  later,  on  the  3d  of  September,  he 
took  this  trio  of  finger-marks  again.  He  liked  to 
have  a  "series,"  two  or  three  "takings"  at  intervals 
during  the  period  of  childhood,  these  to  be  followed 
by  others  at  intervals  of  several  years. 

The  next  day — that  is  to  say,  on  the  4th  of  Sep- 
tember— something  occurred  which  profoundly  im- 
pressed Roxana.  Mr.  Driscoll  missed  another  small 
sum  of  money — which  is  a  way  of  saying  that  this 
was  not  a  new  thing,  but  had  happened  before.  In 
13 


MARK    TWAIN 

truth,  it  had  happened  three  times  before.  Driscoll's 
patience  was  exhausted.  He  was  a  fairly  humane 
man  toward  slaves  and  other  animals;  he  was  an 
exceedingly  humane  man  toward  the  erring  of  his 
own  race.  Theft  he  could  not  abide,  and  plainly 
there  was  a  thief  in  his  house.  Necessarily  the  thief 
must  be  one  of  his  negroes.  Sharp  measures  must 
be  taken.  He  called  his  servants  before  him.  There 
were  three  of  these,  besides  Roxy;  a  man,  a  woman, 
and  a  boy  twelve  years  old.  They  were  not  related. 
Mr.  Driscoll  said: 

"You  have  all  been  warned  before.  It  has  done 
no  good.  This  time  I  will  teach  you  a  lesson.  I 
will  sell  the  thief.  Which  of  you  is  the  guilty  one?" 

They  all  shuddered  at  the  threat,  for  here  they 
had  a  good  home,  and  a  new  one  was  likely  to  be 
a  change  for  the  worse.  The  denial  was  general. 
None  had  stolen  anything — not  money,  anyway — 
a  little  sugar,  or  cake,  or  honey,  or  something  like 
that,  that  "Marse  Percy  wouldn't  mind  or  miss," 
but  not  money — never  a  cent  of  money.  They  were 
eloquent  in  their  protestations,  but  Mr.  Driscoll  was 
not  moved  by  them.  He  answered  each  in  turn 
with  a  stern  "Name  the  thief!" 

The  truth  was,  all  were  guilty  but  Roxana;  she 
suspected  that  the  others  were  guilty,  but  she  did 
not  know  them  to  be  so.  She  was  horrified  to  think 
how  near  she  had  come  to  being  guilty  herself;  she 
had  been  saved  in  the  nick  of  time  by  a  revival  in 
the  colored  Methodist  church,  a  fortnight  before,  at 
which  time  and  place  she  "got  religion."  The  very 
next  day  after  that  gracious  experience,  while  her 
14 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

change  of  style  was  fresh  upon  her  and  she  was  vain 
of  her  purified  condition,  her  master  left  a  couple  of 
dollars  lying  unprotected  on  his  desk,  and  she  hap- 
pened upon  that  temptation  when  she  was  polishing 
around  with  a  dust-rag.  She  looked  at  the  money 
awhile  with  a  steadily  rising  resentment,  then  she 
burst  out  with : 

"Dad  blame  dat  revival,  I  wisht  it  had  'a'  be'n 
put  off  till  to-morrow!" 

Then  she  covered  the  tempter  with  a  book,  and 
another  member  of  the  kitchen  cabinet  got  it.  She 
made  this  sacrifice  as  a  matter  of  religious  etiquette ; 
as  a  thing  necessary  just  now,  but  by  no  means  to 
be  wrested  into  a  precedent;  no,  a  week  or  two 
would  limber  up  her  piety,  then  she  would  be 
rational  again,  and  the  next  two  dollars  that  got 
left  out  in  the  cold  would  find  a  comforter — and  she 
could  name  the  comforter. 

Was  she  bad?  Was  she  worse  than  the  general 
run  of  her  race?  No.  They  had  an  unfair  show 
in  the  battle  of  life,  and  they  held  it  no  sin  to  take 
military  advantage  of  the  enemy — in  a  small  way; 
in  a  small  way,  but  not  in  a  large  one.  They  would 
smouch  provisions  from  the  pantry  whenever  they 
got  a  chance;  or  a  brass  thimble,  or  a  cake  of  wax, 
or  an  emery-bag,  or  a  paper  of  needles,  or  a  silver 
spoon,  or  a  dollar  bill,  or  small  articles  of  clothing, 
or  any  other  property  of  light  value;  and  so  far 
were  they  from  considering  such  reprisals  sinful, 
that  they  would  go  to  church  and  shout  and  pray 
the  loudest  and  sincerest  with  their  plunder  in 
their  pockets.  A  farm  smokehouse  had  to  be  kept 
15 


MARK    TWAIN 

heavily  padlocked,  for  even  the  colored  deacon  him- 
self could  not  resist  a  ham  when  Providence  showed 
him  in  a  dream,  or  otherwise,  where  such  a  thing 
hung  lonesome  and  longed  for  some  one  to  love. 
But  with  a  hundred  hanging  before  him  the  deacon 
would  not  take  two — that  is,  on  the  same  night. 
On  frosty  nights  the  humane  negro  prowler  would 
warm  the  end  of  a  plank  and  put  it  up  under  the 
cold  claws  of  chickens  roosting  in  a  tree;  a  drowsy 
hen  would  step  onto  the  comfortable  board,  softly 
clucking  her  gratitude,  and  the  prowler  would  dump 
her  into  his  bag,  and  later  into  his  stomach,  per- 
fectly sure  that  in  taking  this  trifle  from  the  man 
who  daily  robbed  him  of  an  inestimable  treasure — 
his  liberty — he  was  not  committing  any  sin  that 
God  would  remember  against  him  in  the  Last  Great 
Day. 

"Name  the  thief!" 

For  the  fourth  time  Mr.  Driscoll  had  said  it,  and 
always  in  the  same  hard  tone.  And  now  he  added 
these  words  of  awful  import: 

"I  give  you  one  minute" — he  took  out  his  watch. 
"If  at  the  end  of  that  time  you  have  not  confessed, 
I  will  not  only  sell  all  four  of  you,  but — I  will  sell 

yOU  DOWN  THE  RIVER!" 

It  was  equivalent  to  condemning  them  to  hell! 
No  Missouri  negro  doubted  this.  Roxy  reeled  in 
her  tracks  and  the  color  vanished  out  of  her  face; 
the  others  dropped  to  their  knees  as  if  they  had  been 
shot;  tears  gushed  from  their  eyes,  their  suppli- 
cating hands  went  up,  and  three  answers  came  in 
the  one  instant : 

16 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

"I  done  it!" 

"I  done  it!" 

"I  done  it! — have  mercy,  marster — Lord  have 
mercy  on  us  po'  niggers!" 

"Very  good,"  said  the  master,  putting  up  his 
watch,  "I  will  sell  you  here  though  you  don't  de- 
serve it.  You  ought  to  be  sold  down  the  river." 

The  culprits  flung  themselves  prone,  in  an  ecstasy 
of  gratitude,  and  kissed  his  feet,  declaring  that  they 
would  never  forget  his  goodness  and  never  cease  to 
pray  for  him  as  long  as  they  lived.  They  were 
sincere,  for  like  a  god  he  had  stretched  forth  his 
mighty  hand  and  closed  the  gates  of  hell  against 
them.  He  knew,  himself,  that  he  had  done  a  noble 
and  gracious  thing,  and  was  privately  well  pleased 
with  his  magnanimity;  and  that  night  he  set  the 
incident  down  in  his  diary,  so  that  his  son  might 
read  it  in  after  years,  and  be  thereby  moved  to 
deeds  of  gentleness  and  humanity  himself. 


CHAPTER  III 

Whoever  has  lived  long  enough  to  find  out  what  life  is,  knows 
how  deep  a  debt  of  gratitude  we  owe  to  Adam,  the  first  great 
benefactor  of  our  race.  He  brought  death  into  the  world. 

— Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

PERCY  DRISCOLL  slept  well  the  night  he  saved 
his  house-minions  from  going  down  the  river, 
but  no  wink  of  sleep  visited  Roxy's  eyes.  A  pro- 
found terror  had  taken  possession  of  her.  Her 
child  could  grow  up  and  be  sold  down  the  river! 
The  thought  crazed  her  with  horror.  If  she  dozed 
and  lost  herself  for  a  moment,  the  next  moment  she 
was  on  her  feet  flying  to  her  child's  cradle  to  see  if 
it  was  still  there.  Then  she  would  gather  it  to  her 
heart  and  pour  out  her  love  upon  it  in  a  frenzy  of 
kisses,  moaning,  crying,  and  saying,  "Dey  sha'n't, 
oh,  dey  sha'tit! — yo'  po'  mammy  will  kill  you  fust!" 

Once,  when  she  was  tucking  it  back  in  its  cradle 
again,  the  other  child  nestled  in  its  sleep  and  at- 
tracted her  attention.  She  went  and  stood  over  it 
a  long  time  communing  with  herself: 

"What  has  my  po'  baby  done,  dat  he  couldn't 
have  yo'  luck?  He  hain't  done  noth'n'.  God  was 
good  to  you;  why  warn't  he  good  to  him?  Dey 
can't  sell  you  down  de  river.  I  hates  yo'  pappy; 
he  hain't  got  no  heart — for  niggers  he  hain't,  any- 
18 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

ways.  I  hates  him,  en  I  could  kill  him!"  She 
paused  awhile,  thinking;  then  she  burst  into  wild 
sobbings  again,  and  turned  away,  saying,  "Oh,  I 
got  to  kill  my  chile,  dey  •  ain't  no  yuther  way — 
killin'  him  wouldn't  save  de  chile  fum  goin'  down 
de  river.  Oh,  I  got  to  do  it,  yo'  po'  mammy's  got 
to  kill  you  to  save  you,  honey" — she  gathered  her 
baby  to  her  bosom  now,  and  began  to  smother  it 
with  caresses — "Mammy's  got  to  kill  you — how  kin 
I  do  it !  But  yo'  mammy  ain't  gwine  to  desert  you 
— no,  no;  dak,  don't  cry — she  gwine  wid  you,  she 
gwine  to  kill  herself,  too.  Come  along,  honey, 
come  along  wid  mammy;  we  gwine  to  jump  in  de 
river,  den  de  troubles  o'  dis  worl'  is  all  over — dey 
don't  sell  po'  niggers  down  the  river  over  yonder" 

She  started  toward  the  door,  crooning  to  the  child 
and  hushing  it;  midway  she  stopped  suddenly.  She 
had  caught  sight  of  her  new  Sunday  gown — a  cheap 
curtain-calico  thing,  a  conflagration  of  gaudy  colors 
and  fantastic  figures.  She  surveyed  it  wistfully, 
longingly. 

"Hain't  ever  wore  it  yet,"  she  said,  "en  it's  jist 
lovely."  Then  she  nodded  her  head  in  response  to 
a  pleasant  idea,  and  added,  "No,  I  ain't  gwine  to 
be  fished  out,  wid  everybody  lookin'  at  me,  in  dis 
mis'able  ole  linsey-woolsey." 

She  put  down  the  child  and  made  the  change. 
She  looked  in  the  glass  and  was  astonished  at  her 
beauty.  She  resolved  to  make  her  death-toilet  per- 
fect. She  took  off  her  handkerchief-turban  and 
dressed  her  glossy  wealth  of  hair  "like  white  folks"; 
she  added  some  odds  and  ends  of  rather  lurid  ribbon 
19 


MARK    TWAIN 

and  a  spray  of  atrocious  artificial  flowers;  finally  she 
threw  over  her  shoulders  a  fluffy  thing  called  a 
"cloud"  in  that  day,  which  was  of  a  blazing  red 
complexion.  Then  she  was  ready  for  the  tomb. 

She  gathered  up  her  baby  once  more;  but  when 
her  eye  fell  upon  its  miserably  short  little  gray  tow- 
linen  shirt  and  noted  the  contrast  between  its  pauper 
shabbiness  and  her  own  volcanic  irruption  of  infernal 
splendors,  her  mother-heart  was  touched,  and  she 
was  ashamed. 

"No,  dolling,  mammy  ain't  gwine  to  treat  you 
so.  De  angels  is  gwine  to  'mire  you  jist  as  much 
as  dey  does  yo'  mammy.  Ain't  gwine  to  have  'em 
putt'n*  dey  han's  up  'fo'  dey  eyes  en  savin'  to  David 
en  Goliah  en  dem  yuther  prophets,  '  Dat  chile  is  dress' 
too  indelicate  fo'  dis  place.'" 

By  this  time  she  had  stripped  off  the  shirt.  Now 
she  clothed  the  naked  little  creature  in  one  of 
Thomas  &  Becket's  snowy  long  baby  gowns,  with  its 
bright  blue  bows  and  dainty  flummery  of  ruffles. 

"Dah — now  you's  fixed."  She  propped  the  child 
in  a  chair  and  stood  off  to  inspect  it.  Straightway 
her  eyes  began  to  widen  with  astonishment  and 
admiration,  and  she  clapped  her  hands  and  cried 
out,  "Why,  it  do  beat  all! — I  never  knowed  you  was 
so  lovely.  Marse  Tommy  ain't  a  bit  puttier — not 
a  single  bit." 

She  stepped  over  and  glanced  at  the  other  infant; 
she  flung  a  glance  back  at  her  own;  then  one  more 
at  the  heir  of  the  house.  Now  a  strange  light 
dawned  in  her  eyes,  and  in  a  moment  she  was  lost 
in  thought.  She  seemed  in  a  trance;  when  she  came 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

out  of  it  she  muttered,  "When  I  'uz  a-washin'  'em 
in  de  tub,  yistiddy,  his  own  pappy  asked  me  which 
of  'em  was  his'n." 

She  began  to  move  about  like  one  in  a  dream. 
She  undressed  Thomas  a  Becket,  stripping  him  of 
everything,  and  put  the  tow-linen  shirt  on  him. 
She  put  his  coral  necklace  on  her  own  child's  neck. 
Then  she  placed  the  children  side  by  side,  and  after 
earnest  inspection  she  muttered: 

"Now  who  would  b'lieve  clo'es  could  do  de  like 
o'  dat?  Dog  my  cats  if  it  ain't  all  I  kin  do  to  tell 
t'other  fum  which,  let  alone  his  pappy." 

She  put  her  cub  in  Tommy's  elegant  cradle  and 
said: 

"You's  young  Marse  Tom  fum  dis  out,  en  I  got 
to  practise  and  git  used  to  'memberin*  to  call  you 
dat,  honey,  or  I's  gwine  to  make  a  mistake  some 
time  en  git  us  bofe  into  trouble.  Dah — now  you 
lay  still  en  don't  fret  no  mo',  Marse  Tom — oh, 
thank  de  good  Lord  in  heaven,  you's  saved,  you's 
saved! — dey  ain't  no  man  kin  ever  sell  mammy's 
po'  little  honey  down  de  river  now!" 

She  put  the  heir  of  the  house  in  her  own  child's 
unpainted  pine  cradle,  and  said,  contemplating  its 
slumbering  form  uneasily: 

"I's  sorry  for  you,  honey;  I's  sorry,  God  knows 
I  is, — but  what  kin  I  do,  what  could  I  do?  Yo' 
pappy  would  sell  him  to  somebody,  some  time,  en 
den  he'd  go  down  de  river,  sho',  en  I  couldn't, 
couldn't,  couldn't  stan'  it." 

She  flung  herself  on  her  bed  and  began  to  think 
and  toss,  toss  and  think.  By  and  by  she  sat  sud- 

21 


MARK     TWAIN 

denly  upright,  for  a  comforting  thought  had  flown 
through  her  worried  mind: 

"'Tain't  no  sin — white  folks  has  done  it!  It  ain't 
no  sin,  glory  to  goodness  it  ain't  no  sin !  Dey's  done 
it — yes,  en  dey  was  de  biggest  quality  in  de  whole 
bilin',  too — kings!" 

She  began  to  muse;  she  was  trying  to  gather  out 
of  her  jnemory  the  dim  particulars  of  some  tale  she 
had  heard  some  time  or  other.  At  last  she  said: 

"Now  I's  got  it;  now  I  'member.  It  was  dat 
ole  nigger  preacher  dat  tole  it,  de  time  he  come  over 
here  fum  Illinois  en  preached  in  de  nigger  church. 
He  said  dey  ain't  nobody  kin  save  his  own  self — - 
can't  do  it  by  faith,  can't  do  it  by  works,  can't  do 
it  no  way  at  all.  Free  grace  is  de  on'y  way,  en  dat 
don't  come  fum  nobody  but  jis'  de  Lord;  en  he  kin 
give  it  to  anybody  he  please,  saint  or  sinner — he 
don't  kyer.  He  do  jis'  as  he's  a  mineter.  He 
s'lect  out  anybody  dat  suit  him,  en  put  another  one 
in  his  place,  en  make  de  fust  one  happy  forever  en 
leave  t'other  one  to  burn  wid  Satan.  De  preacher 
said  it  was  jist  like  dey  done  in  Englan'  one  time, 
long  time  ago.  De  queen  she  lef  her  baby  layin' 
aroun'  one  day,  en  went  out  callin';  en  one  o'  de 
niggers  roun'  'bout  de  place  dat  was  'mos'  white, 
she  come  in  en  see  de  chile  layin'  aroun',  en  tuck 
en  put  her  own  chile's  clo'es  on  de  queen's  chile, 
en  put  de  queen's  chile's  clo'es  on  her  own  chile, 
en  den  lef  her  own  chile  layin'  aroun'  en  tuck  en 
toted  de  queen's  chile  home  to  de  nigger  quarter, 
en  nobody  ever  foun'  it  out,  en  her  child  was  de 
king  bimeby,  en  sole  de  queen's  chile  down  de  river 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

one  time  when  dey  had  to  settle  up  de  estate.  Dah, 
now — de  preacher  said  it  his  own  self,  en  it  ain't 
no  sin,  'ca'se  white  folks  done  it.  Dey  done  it- 
yes,  dey  done  it;  en  not  on'y  jis*  common  white 
folks  nuther,  but  de  biggest  quality  dey  is  in  de 
whole  bilin'.  Oh,  I's  so  glad  I  'member  'bout  dat!" 

She  got  up  right-hearted  and  happy,  and  went  to 
the  cradles  and  spent  what  was  left  of  the  night 
"practising."  She  would  give  her  own  child  a 
light  pat  and  say  humbly,  "Lay  still,  Marse  Tom," 
then  give  the  real  Tom  a  pat  and  say  with  severity, 
"Lay  still,  Chambers! — does  you  want  me  to  take 
somep'n'  to  you?" 

As  she  progressed  with  her  practice,  she  was  sur- 
prised to  see  how  steadily  and  surely  the  awe  which 
had  kept  her  tongue  reverent  and  her  manner 
humble  toward  her  young  master  was  transferring 
itself  to  her  speech  and  manner  toward  the  usurper, 
and  how  similarly  handy  she  was  becoming  in  trans- 
ferring her  motherly  curtness  of  speech  and  peremp- 
toriness  of  manner  to  the  unlucky  heir  of  the  ancient 
house  of  Driscoll. 

She  took  occasional  rests  from  practising,  and 
absorbed  herself  in  calculating  her  chances. 

"Dey'll  sell  dese  niggers  to-day  fo'  stealin*  de 
money,  den  dey'll  buy  some  mo'  dat  don't  know 
de  chillen — so  dot's  all  right.  When  I  takes  de 
chillen  out  to  git  de  air,  de  minute  I's  roun'  de  cor- 
ner I's  gwine  to  gaum  dey  mouths  all  roun'  wid  jam, 
den  dey  can't  nobody  notice  dey's  changed.  Yes,  I 
gwineter  do  dat  till  I's  safe,  if  it's  a  year. 

"Dey  ain't  but  one  man  dat  I's  afeard  of,  en 
23 


MARK    TWAIN 

dat's  dat  Pudd'nhead  Wilson.  Dey  calls  him  a 
pudd'nhead,  en  says  he's  a  fool.  My  Ian',  dat  man 
ain't  no  mo'  fool  den  I  is!  He's  de  smartes'  man  in 
dis  town,  less'n  it's  Jedge  Driscoll  or  maybe  Pern 
Howard.  Blame  dat  man,  he  worries  me  wid  dem 
ornery  glasses  o'  his'n;  I  b'lieve  he's  a  witch.  But 
nemmine,  I's  gwine  to  happen  aroun'  dah  one  o* 
dese  days  en  let  on  dat  I  reckon  he  wants  to  print 
de  chillen's  fingers  ag'in;  en  if  he  don't  notice  dey's 
changed,  I  bound  dey  ain't  nobody  gwine  to  notice 
it,  en  den  I's  safe,  sho'.  But  I  reckon  I'll  take  along 
a  hoss-shoe  to  keep  off  de  witch  work." 

The  new  negroes  gave  Roxy  no  trouble,  of  course. 
The  master  gave  her  none,  for  one  of  his  specula- 
tions was  in  jeopardy,  and  his  mind  was  so  occupied 
that  he  hardly  saw  the  children  when  he  looked  at 
them,  and  all  Roxy  had  to  do  was  to  get  them  both 
into  a  gale  of  laughter  when  he  came  about;  then 
their  faces  were  mainly  cavities  exposing  gums,  and 
he  was  gone  again  before  the  spasm  passed  and  the 
little  creatures  resumed  a  human  aspect. 

Within  a  few  days  the  fate  of  the  speculation  be- 
came so  dubious  that  Mr.  Percy  went  away  with  his 
brother  the  Judge,  to  see  what  could  be  done  with 
it.  It  was  a  land  speculation,  as  usual,  and  it  had 
gotten  complicated  with  a  lawsuit.  The  men  were 
gone  seven  weeks.  Before  they  got  back  Roxy  had 
paid  her  visit  to  Wilson,  and  was  satisfied.  Wilson 
took  the  finger-prints,  labeled  them  with  the  names 
and  the  date — October  the  first — put  them  care- 
fully away  and  continued  his  chat  with  Roxy,  who 
seemed  very  anxious  that  he  should  admire  the 
24 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

great  advance  in  flesh  and  beauty  which  the  babies 
had  made  since  he  took  their  finger-prints  a  month 
before.  He  complimented  their  improvement  to  her 
contentment ;  and  as  they  were  without  any  disguise 
of  jam  or  other  stain,  she  trembled  all  the  while  and 
was  miserably  frightened  lest  at  any  moment  he — 

But  he  didn't.     He  discovered  nothing;   and  she 
went  home  jubilant,  and  dropped  all  concern  about 
the  matter  permanently  out  of  her  mind. 
3 


CHAPTER  IV 

Adam  and  Eve  had  many  advantages,  but  the  principal  one 
was,  that  they  escaped  teething. — Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

There  is  this  trouble  about  special  providences — namely, 
there  is  so  often  a  doubt  as  to  which  party  was  intended  to  be 
the  beneficiary.  In  the  case  of  the  children,  the  bears,  and  the 
prophet,  the  bears  got  more  real  satisfaction  out  of  the  episode 
than  the  prophet  did,  because  they  got  the  children. 

— Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

THIS  history  must  henceforth  accommodate  it- 
self to  the  change  which  Roxana  has  consum- 
mated, and  call  the  real  heir  "Chambers"  and  the 
usurping  little  slave  "Thomas  a  Becket" — shorten- 
ing this  latter  name  to  "Tom,"  for  daily  use,  as 
the  people  about  him  did. 

"Tom"  was  a  bad  baby  from  the  very  beginning 
of  his  usurpation.  He  would  cry  for  nothing;  he 
would  burst  into  storms  of  devilish  temper  without 
notice,  and  let  go  scream  after  scream  and  squall 
after  squall,  then  climax  the  thing  with  "holding 
his  breath" — that  frightful  specialty  of  the  teething 
nursling,  in  the  throes  of  which  the  creature  ex- 
hausts its  lungs,  then  is  convulsed  with  noiseless 
squirmings  and  twistings  and  kickings  in  the  effort 
to  get  its  breath,  while  the  lips  turn  blue  and  the 
mouth  stands  wide  and  rigid,  offering  for  inspection 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

one  wee  tooth  set  in  the  lower  rim  of  a  hoop  of  red 
gums;  and  when  the  appalling  stillness  has  endured 
until  one  is  sure  the  lost  breath  will  never  return,  a 
nurse  comes  flying,  and  dashes  water  in  the  child's 
face,  and — presto!  the  lungs  fill,  and  instantly  dis- 
charge a  shriek,  or  a  yell,  or  a  howl  which  bursts 
the  listening  ear  and  surprises  the  owner  of  it  into 
saying  words  which  would  not  go  well  with  a  halo  if 
he  had  one.  The  baby  Tom  would  claw  anybody 
who  came  within  reach  of  his  nails,  and  pound  any- 
body he  could  reach  with  his  rattle.  He  would 
scream  for  water  until  he  got  it,  and  then  throw  cup 
and  all  on  the  floor  and  scream  for  more.  He  was 
indulged  in  all  his  capiices,  howsoever  troublesome 
and  exasperating  they  might  be;  he  was  allowed  to 
eat  anything  he  wanted,  particularly  things  that 
would  give  him  the  stomach-ache. 

When  he  got  to  be  old  enough  to  begin  to  toddle 
about  and  say  broken  words  and  get  an  idea  of  what 
his  hands  were  for,  he  was  a  more  consummate  pest 
than  ever.  Roxy  got  no  rest  while  he  was  awake. 
He  would  call  for  anything  and  everything  he  saw, 
simply  saying,  "Awnt  it!"  (want  it)  which  was  a 
command.  When  it  was  brought,  he  said  in  a 
frenzy,  and  motioning  it  away  with  his  hands, 
"Don't  awnt  it!  don't  awnt  it!"  and  the  moment 
it  was  gone  he  set  up  frantic  yells  of  "Awnt  it! 
awnt  it!  awnt  it!"  and  Roxy  had  to  give  wings  to 
her  heels  to  get  that  thing  back  to  him  again  before 
he  could  get  time  to  carry  out  his  intention  of  going 
into  convulsions  about  it. 

What  he  preferred  above  all  other  things  was  the 
27 


MARK    TWAIN 

tongs.  This  was  because  his  "father"  had  for- 
bidden him  to  have  them  lest  he  break  windows  and 
furniture  with  them.  The  moment  Roxy's  back  was 
turned  he  would  toddle  to  the  presence  of  the  tongs 
and  say,  "Like  it!"  and  cock  his  eye  to  one  side 
to  see  if  Roxy  was  observing;  then,  "Awnt  it!" 
and  cock  his  eye  again;  then,  "Hab  it!"  with  an- 
other furtive  glance;  and  finally,  "Take  it!" — and 
the  prize  was  his.  The  next  moment  the  heavy 
implement  was  raised  aloft;  the  next,  there  was  a 
crash  and  a  squall,  and  the  cat  was  off  on  three  legs 
to  meet  an  engagement;  Roxy  would  arrive  just  as 
the  lamp  or  a  window  went  to  irremediable  smash. 

Tom  got  all  the  petting,  Chambers  got  none. 
Tom  got  all  the  delicacies,  Chambers  got  mush  and 
milk,  and  clabber  without  sugar.  In  consequence, 
Tom  was  a  sickly  child  and  Chambers  wasn't.  Tom 
was  "fractious,"  as  Roxy  called  it,  and  overbear- 
ing; Chambers  was  meek  and  docile. 

With  all  her  splendid  common  sense  and  practical 
every-day  ability,  Roxy  was  a  doting  fool  of  a  mother. 
She  was  this  toward  her  child — and  she  was  also 
more  than  this;  by  the  fiction  created  by  herself, 
he  was  become  her  master;  the  necessity  of  recog- 
nizing this  relation  outwardly  and  of  perfecting 
herself  in  the  forms  required  to  express  the  recog- 
nition, had  moved  her  to  such  diligence  and  faithful- 
ness in  practising  these  forms  that  this  exercise  soon 
concreted  itself  into  habit ;  it  became  automatic  and 
unconscious ;  then  a  natural  result  followed ;  decep- 
tions intended  solely  for  others  gradually  grew 
practically  into  self-deceptions  as  well;  the  mock 
28 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

reverence  became  real  reverence,  the  mock  obse- 
quiousness real  obsequiousness,  the  mock  homage 
real  homage;  the  little  counterfeit  rift  of  separation 
between  imitation  slave  and  imitation  master  wid- 
ened and  widened,  and  became  an  abyss,  and  a  very 
real  one — and  on  one  side  of  it  stood  Roxy,  the  dupe 
of  her  own  deceptions,  and  on  the  other  stood  her 
child,  no  longer  a  usurper  to  her,  but  her  accepted 
and  recognized  master.  He  was  her  darling,  her 
master,  and  her  deity  all  in  one,  and  in  her  worship 
of  him  she  forgot  who  she  was  and  what  he  had 
been. 

In  babyhood  Tom  cuffed  and  banged  and  scratched 
Chambers  unrebuked,  and  Chambers  early  learned 
that  between  meekly  bearing  it  and  resenting  it,  the 
advantage  all  lay  with  the  former  policy.  The  few 
times  that  his  persecutions  had  moved  him  beyond 
control  and  made  him  fight  back  had  cost  him  very 
dear  at  headquarters ;  not  at.  the  hands  of  Roxy,  for 
if  she  ever  went  beyond  scolding  him  sharply  for 
"forgitt'n'  who  his  young  marster  was,"  she  at 
least  never  extended  her  punishment  beyond  a  box 
on  the  ear.  No,  Percy  Driscoll  was  the  person. 
He  told  Chambers  that  under  no  provocation  what- 
ever was  he  privileged  to  lift  his  hand  against  his 
little  master.  Chambers  overstepped  the  line  three 
times,  and  got  three  such  convincing  canings  from 
the  man  who  was  his  father  and  didn't  know  it,  that 
he  took  Tom's  cruelties  in  all  humility  after  that, 
and  made  no  more  experiments. 

Outside  of  the  house  the  two  boys  were  together 
all  through  their  boyhood.  Chambers  was  strong 
29 


MARK     TWAIN 

beyond  his  years,  and  a  good  fighter;  strong  be- 
cause he  was  coarsely  fed  and  hard-worked  about 
the  house,  and  a  good  fighter  because  Tom  furnished 
him  plenty  of  practice — on  white  boys  whom  he 
hated  and  was  afraid  of.  Chambers  was  his  con- 
stant body-guard,  to  and  from  school;  he  was 
present  on  the  playground  at  recess  to  protect  his 
charge.  He  fought  himself  into  such  a  formidable 
reputation,  by  and  by,  that  Tom  could  have  changed 
clothes  with  him,  and  "ridden  in  peace,"  like  Sir 
Kay  in  Launcelot's  armor. 

He  was  good  at  games  of  skill,  too.  Tom  staked 
him  with  marbles  to  play  "keeps"  with,  and  then 
took  all  the  winnings  away  from  him.  In  the  winter 
season  Chambers  was  on  hand,  in  Tom's  worn-out 
clothes,  with  "holy"  red  mittens,  and  "holy"  shoes, 
and  pants  "holy"  at  the  knees  and  seat,  to  drag  a 
sled  up  the  hill  for  Tom,  warmly  clad,  to  ride  down 
on;  but  he  never  got  a  ride  himself.  He  built  snow 
men  and  snow  fortifications  under  Tom's  directions. 
He  was  Tom's  patient  target  when  Tom  wanted  to 
do  some  snowballing,  but  the  target  couldn't  fire 
back.  Chambers  carried  Tom's  skates  to  the  river 
and  strapped  them  on  him,  then  trotted  around 
after  him  on  the  ice,  so  as  to  be  on  hand  when 
wanted;  but  he  wasn't  ever  asked  to  try  the  skates 
himself. 

In  summer  the  pet  pastime  of  the  boys  of  Daw- 
son's  Landing  was  to  steal  apples,  peaches,  and 
melons  from  the  farmers'  fruit-wagons — mainly  on 
account  of  the  risk  they  ran  of  getting  their  heads 
laid  open  with  the  butt  of  the  farmer's  whip.  Tom 
30 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

was  a  distinguished  adept  at  these  thefts — by 
proxy.  Chambers  did  his  stealing,  and  got  the 
peach-stones,  apple-cores,  and  melon-rinds  for  his 
share. 

Tom  always  made  Chambers  go  in  swimming  with 
him,  and  stay  by  him  as  a  protection.  When  Tom 
had  had  enough,  he  would  slip  out  and  tie  knots  in 
Chambers's  shirt,  dip  the  knots  in  the  water  to  make 
them  hard  to  undo,  then  dress  himself  and  sit  by 
and  laugh  while  the  naked  shiverer  tugged  at  the 
stubborn  knots  with  his  teeth. 

Tom  did  his  humble  comrade  these  various  ill 
turns  partly  out  of  native  viciousness,  and  partly 
because  he  hated  him  for  his  superiorities  of  physique 
and  pluck,  and  for  his  manifold  clevernesses.  Tom 
couldn't  dive,  for  it  gave  him  splitting  headaches. 
Chambers  could  dive  without  inconvenience,  and  was 
fond  of  doing  it.  He  excited  so  much  admiration, 
one  day,  among  a  crowd  of  white  boys,  by  throw- 
ing back  somersaults  from  the  stern  of  a  canoe, 
that  it  wearied  Tom's  spirit,  and  at  last  he  shoved 
the  canoe  underneath  Chambers  while  he  was  in  the 
air — so  he  came  down  on  his  head  in  the  canoe- 
bottom;  and  while  he  lay  unconscious,  several  of 
Tom's  ancient  adversaries  saw  that  their  long- 
desired  opportunity  was  come,  and  they  gave  the 
false  heir  such  a  drubbing  that  with  Chambers's 
best  help  he  was  hardly  able  to  drag  himself  home 
afterward. 

When  the  boys  were  fifteen  and  upward,  Tom 
was  "showing  off"  in  the  river  one  day,  when  he 
was  taken  with  a  cramp,  and  shouted  for  help.  It 
31 


MARK    TWAIN 

was  a  common  trick  with  the  boys — particularly  if 
a  stranger  was  present — to  pretend  a  cramp  and 
howl  for  help;  then  when  the  stranger  came  tearing 
hand  over  hand  to  the  rescue,  the  howler  would  go 
on  struggling  and  howling  till  he  was  close  at  hand, 
then  replace  the  howl  with  a  sarcastic  smile  and 
swim  blandly  away,  while  the  town  boys  assailed  the 
dupe  with  a  volley  of  jeers  and  laughter.  Tom  had 
never  tried  this  joke  as  yet,  but  was  supposed  to  be 
trying  it  now,  so  the  boys  held  warily  back;  but 
Chambers  believed  his  master  was  in  earnest,  there- 
fore he  swam  out,  and  arrived  in  time,  unfortunately, 
and  saved  his  life. 

This  was  the  last  feather.  Tom  had  managed  to 
endure  everything  else,  but  to  have  to  remain  pub- 
licly and  permanently  under  such  an  obligation  as 
this  to  a  nigger,  and  to  this  nigger  of  all  niggers — 
this  was  too  much.  He  heaped  insults  upon  Cham- 
bers for  "pretending"  to  think  he  was  in  earnest  in 
calling  for  help,  and  said  that  anybody  but  a  block- 
headed  nigger  would  have  known  he  was  funning 
and  left  him  alone. 

Tom's  enemies  were  in  strong  force  here,  so  they 
came  out  with  their  opinions  quite  freely.  They 
laughed  at  him,  and  called  him  coward,  liar,  sneak, 
and  other  sorts  of  pet  names,  and  told  him  they 
meant  to  call  Chambers  by  a  new  name  after  this, 
and  make  it  common  in  the  town — "Tom  Driscoll's 
niggerpappy" — to  signify  that  he  had  had  a  second 
birth  into  this  life,  and  that  Chambers  was  the 
author  of  his  new  being.  Tom  grew  frantic  under 
these  taunts,  and  shouted : 
32 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

"Knock  their  heads  off,  Chambers!  knock  their 
heads  off!  What  do  you  stand  there  with  your 
hands  in  your  pockets  for?" 

Chambers  expostulated,  and  said,  "But,  Marse 
Tom,  dey's  too  many  of  'em — dey's — " 

"Do  you  hear  me?" 

"Please,  Marse  Tom,  don't  make  me!  Dey's  so 
many  of  'em  dat — " 

Tom  sprang  at  him  and  drove  his  pocket-knife 
into  him  two  or  three  times  before  the  boys  could 
snatch  him  away  and  give  the  wounded  lad  a  chance 
to  escape.  He  was  considerably  hurt,  but  not  seri- 
ously. If  the  blade  had  been  a  little  longer  his 
career  would  have  ended  there. 

Tom  had  long  ago  taught  Roxy  "her  place."  It 
had  been  many  a  day  now  since  she  had  ventured  a 
caress  or  a  fondling  epithet  in  his  quarter.  Such 
things,  from  a  "nigger,"  were  repulsive  to  him,  and 
she  had  been  warned  to  keep  her  distance  and  re- 
member who  she  was.  She  saw  her  darling  gradually 
cease  from  being  her  son,  she  saw  that  detail  perish 
utterly;  all  that  was  left  was  master — master,  pure 
and  simple,  and  it  was  not  a  gentle  mastership, 
either.  She  saw  herself  sink  from  the  sublime  height 
of  motherhood  to  the  somber  depths  of  unmodified 
slavery.  The  abyss  of  separation  between  her  and 
her  boy  was  complete.  She  was  merely  his  chattel 
now,  his  convenience,  his  dog,  his  cringing  and 
helpless  slave,  the  humble  and  unresisting  victim  of 
his  capricious  temper  and  vicious  nature. 

Sometimes  she  could  not  go  to  sleep,  even  when 
worn  out  with  fatigue,  because  her  rage  boiled  so 
33 


MARK     TWAIN 

high  over  the  day's  experiences  with  her  boy.     Shfc 
would  mumble  and  mutter  to  herself: 

"He  struck  me,  en  I  warn't  no  way  to  blame — 
struck  me  in  de  face,  right  before  folks.  En  he's 
al'ays  callin'  me  nigger-wench,  en  hussy,  en  all  dem 
mean  names,  when  I's  doin'  de  very  bes'  I  kin. 
Oh,  Lord,  I  done  so  much  for  him — I  lift'  him  away 
up  to  what  he  is — en  dis  is  what  I  git  for  it." 

Sometimes  when  some  outrage  of  peculiar  offen- 
siveness  stung  her  to  the  heart,  she  would  plan 
schemes  of  vengeance  and  revel  in  the  fancied  spec- 
tacle of  his  exposure  to  the  world  as  an  impostor 
and  a  slave;  but  in  the  midst  of  these  joys  fear 
would  strike  her;  she  had  made  him  too  strong; 
she  could  prove  nothing,  and — heavens,  she  might 
get  sold  down  the  river  for  her  pains!  So  her 
schemes  always  went  for  nothing,  and  she  laid  them 
aside  in  impotent  rage  against  the  fates,  and  against 
herself  for  playing  the  fool  on  that  fatal  September 
day  in  not  providing  herself  with  a  witness  for  use 
in  the  day  when  such  a  thing  might  be  needed  for 
the  appeasing  of  her  vengeance-hungry  heart. 

And  yet  the  moment  Tom  happened  to  be  good 
to  her,  and  kind — and  this  occurred  every  now  and 
then — all  her  sore  places  were  healed,  and  she  was 
happy;  happy  and  proud,  for  this  was  her  son,  her 
nigger  son,  lording  it  among  the  whites  and  securely 
avenging  their  crimes  against  her  race. 

There  were  two  grand  funerals  in  Dawson's  Land- 
ing that  fall — the  fall  of  1845.  One  was  that  of 
Colonel  Cecil  B.urleigh  Essex,  the  other  that  of 
Percy  Driscoll. 

34 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

On  his  death-bed  Driscoll  set  Roxy  free  and  de- 
livered his  idolized  ostensible  son  solemnly  into  the 
keeping  of  his  brother  the  Judge,  and  his  wife. 
Those  childless  people  were  glad  to  get  him.  Child- 
less people  are  not  difficult  to  please. 

Judge  Driscoll  had  gone  privately  to  his  brother, 
a  month  before,  and  bought  Chambers.  He  had 
heard  that  Tom  had  been  trying  to  get  his  father 
to  sell  the  boy  down  the  river,  and  he  wanted  to 
prevent  the  scandal — for  public  sentiment  did  not 
approve  of  that  way  of  treating  family  servants  for 
light  cause  or  for  no  cause. 

Percy  Driscoll  had  worn  himself  out  in  trying  to 
save  his  great  speculative  landed  estate,  and  had 
died  without  succeeding.  He  was  hardly  in  his 
grave  before  the  boom  collapsed  and  left  his  hitherto 
envied  young  devil  of  an  heir  a  pauper.  But  that 
was  nothing;  his  uncle  told  him  he  should  be  his 
heir  and  have  all  his  fortune  when  he  died;  so  Tom 
was  comforted. 

Roxy  had  no  home  now;  so  she  resolved  to  go 
around  and  say  good-by  to  her  friends  and  then 
clear  out  and  see  the  world — that  is  to  say,  she  would 
go  chambermaiding  on  a  steamboat,  the  darling 
ambition  of  her  race  and  sex. 

Her  last  call  was  on  the  black  giant,  Jasper.  She 
found  him  chopping  Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  winter 
provision  of  wood. 

Wilson  was  chatting  with  him  when  Roxy  arrived. 
He  asked  her  how  she  could  bear  to  go  off  chamber- 
maiding  and  leave  her  boys;  and  chaffingly  offered 
to  copy  off  a  series  of  their  finger-prints,  reaching 
35 


MARK    TWAIN 

up  to  their  twelfth  year,  for  her  to  remember  them 
by;  but  she  sobered  in  a  moment,  wondering  if  he 
suspected  anything;  then  she  said  she  believed  she 
didn't  want  them.  Wilson  said  to  himself,  "The 
drop  of  black  blood  in  her  is  superstitious;  she 
thinks  there's  some  devilry,  some  witch  business 
about  my  glass  mystery  somewhere;  she  used  to 
come  here  with  an  old  horseshoe  in  her  hand;  it 
could  have  been  an  accident,  but  I  doubt  it." 


CHAPTER  V 

Training  is  everything.    The  peach  was  once  a  bitter  almond; 
cauliflower  is  nothing  but  cabbage  with  a  college  education. 

— Pjtdd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

Remark  of  Dr.  Baldwin's,  concerning  upstarts:  We  don't  care 
to  eat  toadstools  that  think  they  are  truffles. 

— Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

MRS.  YORK  DRISCOLL  enjoyed  two  years 
of  bliss  with  that  prize,  Tom — bliss  that  was 
troubled  a  little  at  times,  it  is  true,  but  bliss  nev- 
ertheless; then  she  died,  and  her  husband  and  his 
childless  sister,  Mrs.  Pratt,  continued  the  bliss  busi- 
ness at  the  old  stand.  Tom  was  petted  and  in- 
dulged and  spoiled  to  his  entire  content — or  nearly 
that.  This  went  on  till  he  was  nineteen,  then  he 
was  sent  to  Yale.  He  went  handsomely  equipped 
with  "conditions,"  but  otherwise  he  was  not  an 
object  of  distinction  there.  He  remained  at  Yale 
two  years,  and  then  threw  up  the  struggle.  He  came 
home  with  his  manners  a  good  deal  improved;  he 
had  lost  his  surliness  and  brusqueness,  and  was 
rather  pleasantly  soft  and  smooth  now:  he  was 
furtively,  and  sometimes  openly,  ironical  of  speech, 
and  given  to  gently  touching  people  on  the  raw,  but 
he  did  it  with  a  good-natured  semiconscious  air  that 
carried  it  off  safely,  and  kept  him  from  getting  into 
37 


MARK    TWAIN 

trouble.  He  was  as  indolent  as  ever  and  showed  no 
very  strenuous  desire  to  hunt  up  an  occupation. 
People  argued  from  this  that  he  preferred  to  be  sup- 
ported by  his  uncle  until  his  uncle's  shoes  should 
become  vacant.  He  brought  back  one  or  two  new 
habits  with  him,  one  of  which  he  rather  openly 
practised — tippling — but  concealed  another,  which 
was  gambling.  It  would  not  do  to  gamble  where 
his  uncle  could  hear  of  it;  he  knew  that  quite  well. 

Tom's  Eastern  polish  was  not  popular  among  the 
young  people.  They  could  have  endured  it,  per- 
haps, if  Tom  had  stopped  there;  but  he  wore  gloves, 
and  that  they  couldn't  stand,  and  wouldn't;  so  he 
was  mainly  without  society.  He  brought  home  with 
him  a  suit  of  clothes  of  such  exquisite  style  and  cut 
and  fashion — Eastern  fashion,  city  fashion — that  it 
filled  everybody  with  anguish  and  was  regarded  as 
a  peculiarly  wanton  affront.  He  enjoyed  the  feel- 
ing which  he  was  exciting,  and  paraded  the  town 
serene  and  happy  all  day;  but  the  young  fellows  set 
a  tailor  to  work  that  night,  and  when  Tom  started 
out  on  his  parade  next  morning  he  found  the  old 
deformed  negro  bell-ringer  straddling  along  in  his 
wake  tricked  out  in  a  flamboyant  curtain-calico 
exaggeration  of  his  finery,  and  imitating  his  fancy 
Eastern  graces  as  well  as  he  could. 

Tom  surrendered,  and  after  that  clothed  himself 
in  the  local  fashion.  But  the  dull  country-town  was 
tiresome  to  him  since  his  acquaintanceship  with 
livelier  regions,  and  it  grew  daily  more  and  more  so. 
He  began  to  make  little  trips  to  St.  Louis  for  refresh- 
ment. There  he  found  companionship  to  suit  him, 
38 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

and  pleasures  to  his  taste,  along  with  more  freedom, 
in  some  particulars,  than  he  could  have  at  home. 
So,  during  the  next  two  years  his  visits  to  the  city 
grew  in  frequency  and  his  tarryings  there  grew 
steadily  longer  in  duration. 

He  was  getting  into  deep  waters.  He  was  taking 
chances,  privately,  which  might  get  him  into  trouble 
some  day — in  fact,  did. 

Judge  Driscoll  had  retired  from  the  bench  and 
from  all  business  activities  in  1850,  and  had  now 
been  comfortably  idle  three  years.  He  was  presi- 
dent of  the  Free-thinkers'  Society,  and  Pudd'nhead 
Wilson  was  the  other  member.  The  society's  weekly 
discussions  were  now  the  old  lawyer's  main  interest 
in  life.  Pudd'nhead  was  still  toiling  in  obscurity  at 
the  bottom  of  the  ladder,  under  the  blight  of  that 
unlucky  remark  which  he  had  let  fall  twenty-three 
years  before  about  the  dog. 

Judge  Driscoll  was  his  friend,  and  claimed  that  he 
had  a  mind  above  the  average,  but  that  was  regarded 
as  one  of  the  Judge's  whims,  and  it  failed  to  modify 
the  public  opinion.  Or,  rather,  that  was  one  of  the 
reasons  why  it  failed,  but  there  was  another  and 
better  one.  If  the  Judge  had  stopped  with  bare 
assertion,  it  would  have  had  a  good  deal  of  effect; 
but  he  made  the  mistake  of  trying  to  prove  his 
position.  For  some  years  Wilson  had  been  privately 
at  work  on  a  whimsical  almanac,  for  his  amusement 
— a  calendar,  with  a  little  dab  of  ostensible  philos- 
ophy, usually  in  ironical  form,  appended  to  each 
date;  and  the  Judge  thought  that  these  quips  and 
fancies  of  Wilson's  were  neatly  turned  and  cute;  so 
39 


MARK    TWAIN 

he  carried  a  handful  of  them  around  one  day,  and 
read  them  to  some  of  the  chief  citizens.  But  irony 
was  not  for  those  people;  their  mental  vision  was 
not  focused  for  it.  They  read  those  playful  trifles 
in  the  solidest  earnest,  and  decided  without  hesi- 
tancy that  if  there  had  ever  been  any  doubt  that 
Dave  Wilson  was  a  pudd'nhead — which  there  hadn't 
— this  revelation  removed  that  doubt  for  good  and 
all.  That  is  just  the  way  in  this  world;  an  enemy 
can  partly  ruin  a  man,  but  it  takes  a  good-natured 
injudicious  friend  to  complete  the  thing  and  make  it 
perfect.  After  this  the  Judge  felt  tenderer  than  ever 
toward  Wilson,  and  surer  than  ever  that  his  calendar 
had  merit. 

Judge  Driscoll  could  be  a  free-thinker  and  still 
hold  his  place  in  society,  because  he  was  the  person 
of  most  consequence  in  the  community,  and  there- 
fore could  venture  to  go  his  own  way  and  follow  out 
his  own  notions.  The  other  member  of  his  pet 
organization  was  allowed  the  like  liberty  because  he 
was  a  cipher  in  the  estimation  of  the  public,  and 
nobody  attached  any  importance  to  what  he  thought 
or  did.  He  was  liked,  he  was  welcome  enough  all 
around,  but  he  simply  didn't  count  for  anything. 

The  widow  Cooper — affectionately  called  "Aunt 
Patsy"  by  everybody — lived  in  a  snug  and  comely 
cottage  with  her  daughter  Rowena,  who  was  nine- 
teen, romantic,  amiable,  and  very  pretty,  but  other- 
wise of  no  consequence.  Rowena  had  a  couple  of 
young  brothers — also  of  no  consequence. 

The  widow  had  a  large  spare  room  which  she  let 
to  a  lodger,  with  board,  when  she  could  find  one, 
40 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

but  this  room  had  been  empty  for  a  year  now,  to 
her  sorrow.  Her  income  was  only  sufficient  for  the 
family  support,  and  she  needed  the  lodging-money 
for  trifling  luxuries.  But  now,  at  last,  on  a  flaming 
June  day,  she  found  herself  happy;  her  tedious  wait 
was  ended;  her  year- worn  advertisement  had  been 
answered;  and  not  by  a  village  applicant,  oh,  no! — 
this  letter  was  from  away  off  yonder  in  the  dim  great 
world  to  the  north;  it  was  from  St.  Louis.  She 
sat  on  her  porch  gazing  out  with  unseeing  eyes  upon 
the  shining  reaches  of  the  mighty  Mississippi,  her 
thoughts  steeped  in  her  good  fortune.  Indeed,  it 
was  specially  good  fortune,  for  she  was  to  have  two 
lodgers  instead  of  one. 

She  had  read  the  letter  to  the  family,  and  Rowena 
had  danced  away  to  see  to  the  cleaning  and  airing 
of  the  room  by  the  slave  woman  Nancy,  and  the 
boys  had  rushed  abroad  in  the  town  to  spread  the 
great  news,  for  it  was  matter  of  public  interest,  and 
the  public  would  wonder  and  not  be  pleased  if  not 
informed.  Presently  Rowena  returned,  all  ablush 
with  joyous  excitement,  and  begged  for  a  rereading 
of  the  letter.  It  was  framed  thus: 

HONORED  MADAM:  My  brother  and  I  have  seen  your  adver- 
tisement, by  chance,  and  beg  leave  to  take  the  room  you  offer. 
We  are  twenty-four  years  of  age  and  twins.  We  are  Italians  by 
birth,  but  have  lived  long  in  the  various  countries  of  Europe, 
and  several  years  in  the  United  States.  Our  names  are  Luigi 
and  Angelo  Capello.  You  desire  but  one  guest;  but,  dear 
Madam,  if  you  will  allow  us  to  pay  for  two,  we  will  not  incom- 
mode you.  We  shall  be  down  Thursday. 

"Italians!     How   romantic!    Just   think,    ma — 
there's  never  been  one  in  this  town,  and  everybody 
4  4i 


MARK    TWAIN 

will  be  dying  to  see  them  and  they're  all  ours! 
Think  of  that!" 

"Yes,  I  reckon  they'll  make  a  grand  stir." 

"Oh,  indeed  they  will.  The  whole  town  will  be 
on  its  head!  Think — they've  been  in  Europe  and 
everywhere!  There's  never  been  a  traveler  in  this 
town  before.  Ma,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  they've 
seen  kings!" 

"Well,  a  body  can't  tell;  but  they'll  make  stir 
enough,  without  that." 

"Yes,  that's  of  course.  Luigi — Angelo.  They're 
lovely  names;  and  so  grand  and  foreign — not  like 
Jones  and  Robinson  and  such.  Thursday  they  are 
coming,  and  this  is  only  Tuesday;  it's  a  cruel  long 
time  to  wait.  Here  comes  Judge  Driscoll  in  at  the 
gate.  He's  heard  about  it.  I'll  go  and  open  the 
door." 

The  Judge  was  full  of  congratulations  and  curi- 
osity. The  letter  was  read  and  discussed.  Soon 
Justice  Robinson  arrived  with  more  congratulations, 
and  there  was  a  new  reading  and  a  new  discussion. 
This  was  the  beginning.  Neighbor  after  neighbor, 
of  both  sexes,  followed,  and  the  procession  drifted 
in  and  out  all  day  and  evening,  and  all  Wednesday 
and  Thursday.  The  letter  was  read  and  reread 
until  it  was  nearly  worn  out;  everybody  admired  its 
courtly  and  gracious  tone,  and  smooth  and  practised 
style,  everybody  was  sympathetic  and  excited,  and 
the  Coopers  were  steeped  in  happiness  all  the  while. 

The  boats  were  very  uncertain  in  low  water  in 
these  primitive  times.  This  time  the  Thursday  boat 
had  not  arrived  at  ten  at  night — so  the  people  had 
42 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

waited  at  the  landing  all  day  for  nothing;  they  were 
driven  to  their  homes  by  a  heavy  storm  without 
having  had  a  view  of  the  illustrious  foreigners. 

Eleven  o'clock  came;  and  the  Cooper  house  was 
the  only  one  in  the  town  that  still  had  lights  burn- 
ing. The  rain  and  thunder  were  booming  yet,  and 
the  anxious  family  were  still  waiting,  still  hoping. 
At  last  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door  and  the  family 
jumped  to  open  it.  Two  negro  men  entered,  each 
carrying  a  trunk,  and  proceeded  up -stairs  toward 
the  guest-room.  Then  entered  the  twins — the  hand- 
somest, the  best  dressed,  the  most  distinguished- 
looking  pair  of  young  fellows  the  West  had  ever 
seen.  One  was  a  little  fairer  than  the  other,  but 
otherwise  they  were  exact  duplicates. 


CHAPTER  VI 

Let  us  endeavor  so  to  live  that  when  we  come  to  die  even 
the  undertaker  will  be  sorry. — PudtTnhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

Habit  is  habit,  and  not  to  be  flung  out  of  the  window  by  any 
man,  but  coaxed  down-stairs  a  step  at  a  time. 

—Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

A?  breakfast  in  the  morning  the  twins'  charm  of 
manner  and  easy  and  polished  bearing  made 
speedy  conquest  of  the  family's  good  graces.  All 
constraint  and  formality  quickly  disappeared,  and 
the  friendliest  feeling  succeeded.  Aunt  Patsy  called 
them  by  their  Christian  names  almost  from  the  be- 
ginning. She  was  full  of  the  keenest  curiosity  about 
them,  and  showed  it;  they  responded  by  talking 
about  themselves,  which  pleased  her  greatly.  It 
presently  appeared  that  in  their  early  youth  they 
had  known  poverty  and  hardship.  As  the  talk  wan- 
dered along  the  old  lady  watched  for  the  right  place 
to  drop  in  a  question  or  two  concerning  that  matter, 
and  when  she  found  it  she  said  to  the  blond  twin 
who  was  now  doing  the  biographies  in  his  turn  while 
the  brunette  one  rested: 

"If  it  ain't  asking  what  I  ought  not  to  ask,  Mr. 
Angelo,  how  did  you  come  to  be  so  friendless  and 
in  such  trouble  when  you  were  little?     Do  you  mind 
telling?    But  don't  if  you  do." 
44 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

"Oh,  we  don't  mind  it  at  all,  madam;  in  our 
case  it  was  merely  misfortune,  and  nobody's  fault. 
Our  parents  were  well  to  do,  there  in  Italy,  and  we 
were  their  only  child.  We  were  of  the  old  Floren- 
tine nobility" — Rowena's  heart  gave  a  great  bound, 
her  nostrils  expanded,  and  a  fine  light  played  in  her 
eyes — "and  when  the  war  broke  out  my  father  was 
on  the  losing  side  and  had  to  fly  for  his  life.  His 
estates  were  confiscated,  his  personal  property 
seized,  and  there  we  were,  in  Germany,  strangers, 
friendless,  and,  in  fact,  paupers.  My  brother  and  I 
were  ten  years  old,  and  well  educated  for  that  age, 
very  studious,  very  fond  of  our  books,  and  well 
grounded  in  the  German,  French,  Spanish,  and 
English  languages.  Also,  we  were  marvelous  musi- 
cal prodigies — if  you  will  allow  me  to  say  it,  it 
being  only  the  truth. 

"Our  father  survived  his  misfortunes  only  a 
month,  our  mother  soon  followed  him,  and  we  were 
alone  in  the  world.  Our  parents  could  have  made 
themselves  comfortable  by  exhibiting  us  as  a  show, 
and  they  had  many  and  large  offers ;  but  the  thought 
revolted  their  pride,  and  they  said  they  would  starve 
and  die  first.  But  what  they  wouldn't  consent  to 
do  we  had  to  do  without  the  formality  of  consent. 
We  were  seized  for  the  debts  occasioned  by  their 
illness  and  their  funerals,  and  placed  among  the 
attractions  of  a  cheap  museum  in  Berlin  to  earn  the 
liquidation  money.  It  took  us  two  years  to  get  out 
of  that  slavery.  We  traveled  all  about  Germany  re- 
ceiving no  wages,  and  not  even  our  keep.  We  had 
to  be  exhibited  for  nothing,  and  beg  our  bread. 
45 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Well,  madam,  the  rest  is  not  of  much  conse- 
quence. When  we  escaped  from  that  slavery  at 
twelve  years  of  age,  we  were  in  some  respects  men. 
Experience  had  taught  us  some  valuable  things; 
among  other,  how  to  take  care  of  ourselves,  how  to 
avoid  and  defeat  sharks  and  sharpers,  and  how  to 
conduct  our  own  business  for  our  own  profit  and 
without  other  people's  help.  We  traveled  every- 
where— years  and  years — picking  up  smatterings 
of  strange  tongues,  familiarizing  ourselves  with 
strange  sights  and  strange  customs,  accumulating 
an  education  of  a  wide  and  varied  and  curi- 
ous sort.  It  was  a  pleasant  life.  We  went  to 
Venice — to  London,  Paris,  Russia,  India,  China,  Ja- 
pan— 

At  this  point  Nancy,  the  slave  woman,  thrust  her 
head  in  at  the  door  and  exclaimed: 

"Ole  Missus,  de  house  is  plum'  jam  full  o'  peo- 
ple, en  dey's  jes'  a-spi'lin  to  see  de  gen'lmen!" 
She  indicated  the  twins  with  a  nod  of  her  head,  and 
tucked  it  back  out  of  sight  again. 

It  was  a  proud  occasion  for  the  widow,  and  she 
promised  herself  high  satisfaction  in  showing  off  her 
fine  foreign  birds  before  her  neighbors  and  friends— » 
simple  folk  who  had  hardly  ever  seen  a  foreigner  of 
any  kind,  and  never  one  of  any  distinction  or  style. 
Yet  her  feeling  was  moderate  indeed  when  con^ 
trasted  with  Rowena's.  Rowena  was  in  the  clouds, 
she  walked  on  air;  this  was  to  be  the  greatest  day, 
the  most  romantic  episode,  in  the  colorless  history 
of  that  dull  country-town.  She  was  to  be  familiarly 
near  the  source  of  its  glory  and  feel  the  full  flood  of 
46 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

it  pour  over  her  and  about  her;  the  other  girls  could 
only  gaze  and  envy,  not  partake. 

The  widow  was  ready,  Rowena  was  ready,  so  also 
were  the  foreigners. 

The  party  moved  along  the  hall,  the  twins  in  ad- 
vance, and  entered  the  open  parlor  door,  whence 
issued  a  low  hum  of  conversation.  The  twins  took 
a  position  near  the  door,  the  widow  stood  at  Luigi's 
side,  Rowena  stood  beside  Angelo,  and  the  march- 
past  and  the  introductions  began.  The  widow  was 
all  smiles  and  contentment.  She  received  the  pro- 
cession and  passed  it  on  to  Rowena. 

"Good  mornin',  Sister  Cooper" — handshake. 

"Good  morning,  Brother  Higgins — Count  Luigi 
Capello,  Mr.  Higgins" — handshake,  followed  by  a 
devouring  stare  and  "I'm  glad  to  see  ye,"  on  the 
part  of  Higgins,  and  a  courteous  inclination  of  the 
head  and  a  pleasant  "Most  happy!"  on  the  part  of 
Count  Luigi. 

"Good  mornin',  Roweny" — handshake. 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Higgins — present  you  to 
Count  Angelo  Capello."  Handshake,  admiring  stare, 
"Glad  to  see  ye," — courteous  nod,  smily  "Most 
happy!"  and  Higgins  passes  on. 

None  of  these  visitors  was  at  ease,  but,  being 
honest  people,  they  didn't  pretend  to  be.  None  of 
them  had  ever  seen  a  person  bearing  a  title  of 
nobility  before,  and  none  had  been  expecting  to  see 
one  now,  consequently  the  title  came  upon  them  as 
a  kind  of  pile-driving  surprise  and  caught  them  un- 
prepared. A  few  tried  to  rise  to  the  emergency, 
and  got  out  an  awkward  "My  lord,"  or  "Your 
47 


MARK    TWAIN 

lordship,"  or  something  of  that  sort,  but  the  great 
majority  were  overwhelmed  by  the  unaccustomed 
word  and  its  dim  and  awful  associations  with  gilded 
courts  and  stately  ceremony  and  anointed  kingship, 
so  they  only  fumbled  through  the  handshake  and 
passed  on  speechless.  Now  and  then,  as  happens 
at  all  receptions  everywhere,  a  more  than  ordinarily 
friendly  soul  blocked  the  procession  and  kept  it 
waiting  while  he  inquired  how  the  brothers  liked  the 
village,  and  how  long  they  were  going  to  stay,  and 
if  their  families  were  well,  and  dragged  in  the 
weather,  and  hoped  it  would  get  cooler  soon,  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing,  so  as  to  be  able  to  say,  when 
they  got  home,  "I  had  quite  a  long  talk  with  them" ; 
but  nobody  did  or  said  anything  of  a  regrettable 
kind,  and  so  the  great  affair  went  through  to  the 
end  in  a  creditable  and  satisfactory  fashion. 

General  conversation  followed,  and  the  twins 
drifted  about  from  group  to  group,  talking  easily 
and  fluently  and  winning  approval,  compelling  ad- 
miration and  achieving  favor  from  all.  The  widow 
followed  their  conquering  march  with  a  proud  eye, 
and  every  now  and  then  Rowena  said  to  herself  with 
deep  satisfaction,  "And  to  think  they  are  ours — 
all  ours!" 

There  were  no  idle  moments  for  mother  or 
daughter.  Eager  inquiries  concerning  the  twins 
were  pouring  into  their  enchanted  ears  all  the  time; 
each  was  the  constant  center  of  a  group  of  breathless 
listeners;  each  recognized  that  she  knew  now  for 
the  first  time  the  real  meaning  of  that  great  word 
Glory,  and  perceived  the  stupendous  value  of  it, 
48 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

and  understood  why  men  in  all  ages  had  been 
willing  to  throw  away  meaner  happinesses,  treasure, 
life  itself,  to  get  a  taste  of  its  sublime  and  supreme 
joy.  Napoleon  and  all  his  kind  stood  accounted  for 
— and  justified. 

When  Rowena  had  at  last  done  all  her  duty  by 
the  people  in  the  parlor,  she  went  up-stairs  to  satisfy 
the  longings  of  an  overflow-meeting  there,  for  the 
parlor  was  not  big  enough  to  hold  all  the  comers. 
Again  she  was  besieged  by  eager  questioners  and 
again  she  swam  in  sunset  seas  of  glory.  When  the 
forenoon  was  nearly  gone,  she  recognized  with  a 
pang  that  this  most  splendid  episode  of  her  life  was 
almost  over,  that  nothing  could  prolong  it,  that 
nothing  quite  its  equal  could  ever  fall  to  her  fortune 
again.  But  never  mind,  it  was  sufficient  unto  itself, 
the  grand  occasion  had  moved  on  an  ascending  scale 
from  the  start,  and  was  a  noble  and  memorable 
success.  If  the  twins  could  but  do  some  crowning 
act  now  to  climax  it,  something  unusual,  something 
startling,  something  to  concentrate  upon  themselves 
the  company's  loftiest  admiration,  something  in  the 
nature  of  an  electric  surprise — 

Here  a  prodigious  slam-banging  broke  out  below, 
and  everybody  rushed  down  to  see.  It  was  the 
twins  knocking  out  a  classic  four-handed  piece  on 
the  piano  in  great  style.  Rowena  was  satisfied — 
satisfied  down  to  the  bottom  of  her  heart. 

The  young  strangers  were  kept  long  at  the  piano. 

The  villagers  were  astonished  and  enchanted  with 

the  magnificence  of  their  performance,  and  could 

not  bear  to  have  them  stop.     All  the  music  that 

49 


MARK    TWAIN 

they  had  ever  heard  before  seemed  spiritless  prentice- 
work  and  barren  of  grace  or  charm  when  compared 
with  these  intoxicating  floods  of  melodious  sound. 
They  realized  that  for  once  in  their  lives  they  were 
hearing  masters. 


CHAPTER  VII 

One  of  the  most  striking  differences  between  a  cat  and  a  lie 
is  that  a  cat  has  only  nine  lives. — Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

THE  company  broke  up  reluctantly,  and  drifted 
toward  their  several  homes,  chatting  with  vi- 
vacity, and  all  agreeing  that  it  would  be  many  a 
long  day  before  Dawson's  Landing  would  see  the 
equal  of  this  one  again.  The  twins  had  accepted 
several  invitations  while  the  reception  was  in  prog- 
ress, and  had  also  volunteered  to  play  some  duets 
at  an  amateur  entertainment  for  the  benefit  of  a 
local  charity.  Society  was  eager  to  receive  them  to 
its  bosom.  Judge  Driscoll  had  the  good  fortune 
to  secure  them  for  an  immediate  drive,  and  to  be 
the  first  to  display  them  in  public.  They  entered 
his  buggy  with  him,  and  were  paraded  down  the 
main  street,  everybody  flocking  to  the  windows  and 
sidewalks  to  see. 

The  Judge  showed  the  strangers  the  new  grave- 
yard, and  the  jail,  and  where  the  richest  man  lived, 
and  the  Freemasons'  hall,  and  the  Methodist  church, 
and  the  Presbyterian  church,  and  where  the  Baptist 
church  was  going  to  be  when  they  got  some  money 
to  build  it  with,  and  showed  them  the  town  hall  and 
the  slaughter-house,  and  got  out  the  independent 
fire  company  in  uniform  and  had  them  put  out  an 


MARK    TWAIN 

imaginary  fire;  then  he  let  them  inspect  the  muskets 
of  the  militia  company,  and  poured  out  an  exhaust- 
less  stream  of  enthusiasm  over  all  these  splendors, 
and  seemed  very  well  satisfied  with  the  responses  he 
got,  for  the  twins  admired  his  admiration,  and  paid 
him  back  the  best  they  could,  though  they  could 
have  done  better  if  some  fifteen  or  sixteen  hundred 
thousand  previous  experiences  of  this  sort  in  various 
countries  had  not  already  rubbed  off  a  considerable 
part  of  the  novelty  of  it. 

The  Judge  laid  himself  out  hospitably  to  make 
them  have  a  good  time,  and  if  there  was  a  defect 
anywhere  it  was  not  his  fault.  He  told  them  a  good 
many  humorous  anecdotes,  and  always  forgot  the 
nub,  but  they  were  always  able  to  furnish  it,  for 
these  yarns  were  of  a  pretty  early  vintage,  and  they 
had  had  many  a  rejuvenating  pull  at  them  before. 
And  he  told  them  all  about  his  several  dignities,  and 
how  he  had  held  this  and  that  and  the  other  place 
of  honor  or  profit,  and  had  once  been  to  the  legis- 
lature, and  was  now  president  of  the  Society  of 
Free-thinkers.  He  said  the  society  had  been  in 
existence  four  years,  and  already  had  two  members, 
and  was  firmly  established.  He  would  call  for  the 
brothers  in  the  evening  if  they  would  like  to  attend 
a  meeting  of  it. 

Accordingly  he  called  for  them,  and  on  the  way 
he  told  them  all  about  Pudd'nhead  Wilson,  in  order 
that  they  might  get  a  favorable  impression  of  him  in 
advance  and  be  prepared  to  like  him.  This  scheme 
succeeded — the  favorable  impression  was  achieved. 
Later  it  was  confirmed  and  solidified  when  Wilson 
52 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

proposed  that  out  of  courtesy  to  the  strangers  the 
usual  topics  be  put  aside  and  the  hour  be  devoted 
to  conversation  upon  ordinary  subjects  and  the  culti- 
vation of  friendly  relations  and  good-fellowship — a 
proposition  which  was  put  to  vote  and  carried. 

The  hour  passed  quickly  away  in  lively  talk,  and 
when  it  was  ended  the  lonesome  and  neglected 
Wilson  was  richer  by  two  friends  than  he  had  been 
when  it  began.  He  invited  the  twins  to  look  in  at 
his  lodgings,  presently,  after  disposing  of  an  inter- 
vening engagement,  and  they  accepted  with  pleasure. 

Toward  the  middle  of  the  evening  they  found 
themselves  on  the  road  to  his  house.  Pudd'nhead 
was  at  home  waiting  for  them  and  putting  in  his 
time  puzzling  over  a  thing  which  had  come  under  his 
notice  that  morning.  The  matter  was  this:  He 
happened  to  be  up  very  early — at  dawn,  in  fact; 
and  he  crossed  the  hall  which  divided  his  cottage 
through  the  center,  and  entered  a  room  to  get  some- 
thing there.  The  window  of  the  room  had  no  cur- 
tains, for  that  side  of  the  house  had  long  been 
unoccupied,  and  through  this  window  he  caught 
sight  of  something  which  surprised  and  interested 
him.  It  was  a  young  woman — a  young  woman 
where  properly  no  young  woman  belonged;  for  she 
was  in  Judge  DriscolTs  house,  and  in  the  bedroom 
over  the  Judge's  private  study  or  sitting-room. 
This  was  young  Tom  Driscoll's  bedroom.  He  and 
the  Judge,  the  Judge's  widowed  sister,  Mrs.  Pratt, 
and  three  negro  servants  were  the  only  people  who 
belonged  in  the  house.  Who,  then,  might  this 
young  lady  be?  The  two  houses  were  separated  by 
53 


MARK     TWAIN 

an  ordinary  yard,  with  a  low  fence  running  back 
through  its  middle  from  the  street  in  front  to  the 
lane  in  the  rear.  The  distance  was  not  great,  and 
Wilson  was  able  to  see  the  girl  very  well,  the  window- 
shades  of  the  room  she  was  in  being  up,  and  the 
window  also.  The  girl  had  on  a  neat  and  trim 
summer  dress,  patterned  in  broad  stripes  of  pink 
and  white,  and  her  bonnet  was  equipped  with  a  pink 
veil.  She  was  practising  steps,  gaits,  and  attitudes, 
apparently;  she  was  doing  the  thing  gracefully,  and 
was  very  much  absorbed  in  her  work.  Who  could 
she  be,  and  how  came  she  to  be  in  young  Tom 
DriscolTs  room? 

Wilson  had  quickly  chosen  a  position  from  which 
he  could  watch  the  girl  without  running  much  risk 
of  being  seen  by  her,  and  he  remained  there  hoping 
she  would  raise  her  veil  and  betray  her  face.  But 
she  disappointed  him.  After  a  matter  of  twenty 
minutes  she  disappeared,  and  although  he  stayed  at 
his  post  half  an  hour  longer,  she  came  no  more. 

Toward  noon  he  dropped  in  at  the  Judge's  and 
talked  with  Mrs.  Pratt  about  the  great  event  of  the 
day,  the  levee  of  the  distinguished  foreigners  at 
Aunt  Patsy  Cooper's.  He  asked  after  her  nephew 
Tom,  and  she  said  he  was  on  his  way  home,  and 
that  she  was  expecting  him  to  arrive  a  little  before 
night ;  and  added  that  she  and  the  Judge  were  grati- 
fied to  gather  from  his  letters  that  he  was  conducting 
himself  very  nicely  and  creditably — at  which  Wilson 
winked  to  himself  privately.  Wilson  did  not  ask  if 
there  was  a  new-comer  in  the  house,  but  he  asked 
questions  that  would  have  brought  light-throwing 
54 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

answers  as  to  that  matter  if  Mrs.  Pratt  had  had  any 
light  to  throw;  so  he  went  away  satisfied  that  he 
knew  of  things  that  were  going  on  in  her  house  of 
which  she  herself  was  not  aware. 

He  was  now  waiting  for  the  twins,  and  still  puz- 
zling over  the  problem  of  who  that  girl  might  be, 
and  how  she  happened  to  be  in  that  young  fellow's 
room  at  daybreak  in  the  morning. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

The  holy  passion  of  Friendship  is  of  so  sweet  and  steady  and 
loyal  and  enduring  a  nature  that  it  will  last  through  a  whole 
lifetime,  if  not  asked  to  lend  money. 

— Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar: 

Consider  well  the  proportions  of  things.  It  is  better  to  be  a 
young  June-bug  than  an  old  bird  of  paradise. 

—Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

IT  is  necessary  now  to  hunt  up  Roxy. 
At  the  time  she  was  set  free  and  went  away 
chambermaiding,  she  was  thirty-five.  She  got  a 
berth  as  second  chambermaid  on  a  Cincinnati  boat 
in  the  New  Orleans  trade,  the  Grand  Mogul.  A 
couple  of  trips  made  her  wonted  and  easy-going  at 
the  work,  and  infatuated  her  with  the  stir  and  ad- 
venture and  independence  of  steamboat  life.  Then 
she  was  promoted  and  became  head  chambermaid. 
She  was  a  favorite  with  the  officers,  and  exceedingly 
proud  of  their  joking  and  friendly  ways  with  her. 
During  eight  years  she  served  three  parts  of  the 
year  on  that  boat,  and  the  winters  on  a  Vicksburg 
packet.  But  now  for  two  months  she  had  had 
rheumatism  in  her  arms,  and  was  obliged  to  let  the 
wash-tub  alone.  So  she  resigned.  But  she  was 
well  fixed — rich,  as  she  would  have  described  it; 
for  she  had  lived  a  steady  life,  and  had  banked  four 
56 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

dollars  every  month  in  New  Orleans  as  a  provision 
for  her  old  age.  She  said  in  the  start  that  she  had 
"put  shoes  on  one  bar'footed  nigger  to  tromple  on 
her  with,"  and  that  one  mistake  like  that  was 
enough;  she  would  be  independent  of  the  human 
race  thenceforth  forevermore  if  hard  work  and 
economy  could  accomplish  it.  When  the  boat 
touched  the  levee  at  New  Orleans  she  bade  good-by 
to  her  comrades  on  the  Grand  Mogul  and  moved  her 
kit  ashore. 

But  she  was  back  in  an  hour.  The  bank  had 
gone  to  smash  and  carried  her  four  hundred  dollars 
with  it.  She  was  a  pauper,  and  homeless.  Also 
disabled  bodily,  at  least  for  the  present.  The  offi- 
cers were  full  of  sympathy  for  her  in  her  trouble, 
and  made  up  a  little  purse  for  her.  She  resolved  to 
go  to  her  birthplace;  she  had  friends  there  among 
the  negroes,  and  the  unfortunate  always  help  the 
unfortunate,  she  was  well  aware  of  that;  those 
lowly  comrades  of  her  youth  would  not  let  her 
starve. 

She  took  the  little  local  packet  at  Cairo,  and  now 
she  was  on  the  home-stretch.  Time  had  worn  away 
her  bitterness  against  her  son,  and  she  was  able  to 
think  of  him  with  serenity.  She  put  the  vile  side  of 
him  out  of  her  mind,  and  dwelt  only  on  recollections 
of  his  occasional  acts  of  kindness  to  her.  She 
gilded  and  otherwise  decorated  these,  and  made 
them  very  pleasant  to  contemplate.  She  began  to 
long  to  see  him.  She  would  go  and  fawn  upon 
him,  slave-like — for  this  would  have  to  be  her  atti- 
tude, of  course — and  maybe  she  would  find  that 
5  57 


MARK    TWAIN 

time  had  modified  him,  and  that  he  would  be  glad 
to  see  his  long-forgotten  old  nurse  and  treat  her 
gently.  That  would  be  lovely ;  that  would  make  her 
forget  her  woes  and  her  poverty. 

Her  poverty!  That  thought  inspired  her  to  add 
another  castle  to  her  dream;  maybe  he  would  give 
her  a  trifle  now  and  then — maybe  a  dollar,  once  a 
month,  say;  any  little  thing  like  that  would  help, 
oh,  ever  so  much. 

By  the  time  she  reached  Dawson's  Landing  she 
was  her  old  self  again;  her  blues  were  gone,  she 
was  in  high  feather.  She  would  get  along,  surely; 
there  were  many  kitchens  where  the  servants  would 
share  their  meals  with  her,  and  also  steal  sugar  and 
apples  and  other  dainties  for  her  to  carry  home — or 
give  her  a  chance  to  pilfer  them  herself,  which  would 
answer  just  as  well.  And  there  was  the  church. 
She  was  a  more  rabid  and  devoted  Methodist  than 
ever,  and  her  piety  was  no  sham,  but  was  strong  and 
sincere.  Yes,  with  plenty  of  creature  comforts  and 
her  old  place  in  the  amen-corner  in  her  possession 
again,  she  would  be  perfectly  happy  and  at  peace 
thenceforward  to  the  end. 

She  went  to  Judge  Driscoll's  kitchen  first  of  all. 
She  was  received  there  in  great  form  and  with  vast 
enthusiasm.  Her  wonderful  travels,  and  the  strange 
countries  she  had  seen  and  the  adventures  she  had 
had,  made  her  a  marvel,  and  a  heroine  of  romance. 
The  negroes  hung  enchanted  upon  the  great  story 
of  her  experiences,  interrupting  her  all  along  with 
eager  questions,  with  laughter,  exclamations  of  de- 
light and  expressions  of  applause;  and  she  was 
58 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

obliged  to  confess  to  herself  that  if  there  was  any- 
thing better  in  this  world  than  steamboating,  it  was 
the  glory  to  be  got  by  telling  about  it.  The  audi- 
ence loaded  her  stomach  with  their  dinners,  and 
then  stole  the  pantry  bare  to  load  up  her  basket. 

Tom  was  in  St.  Louis.  The  servants  said  he  had 
spent  the  best  part  of  his  time  there  during  the 
previous  two  years.  Roxy  came  every  day,  and  had 
many  talks  about  the  family  and  its  affairs.  Once 
she  asked  why  Tom  was  away  so  much.  The  osten- 
sible "Chambers"  said: 

"De  fac'  is,  ole  marster  kin  git  along  better  when 
young  marster's  away  den  he  kin  when  he's  in  de 
town;  yes,  en  he  love  him  better,  too;  so  he  gives 
him  fifty  dollahs  a  month — " 

"No,  is  dat  so?  Chambers,  you's  a-jokin',  ain't 
you?" 

"'Clah  to  goodness  I  ain't,  mammy;  Marse  Tom 
tole  me  so  his  own  self.  But  nemmine,  't  ain't 
enough." 

"My  Ian',  what  de  reason  't  ain't  enough?" 

"Well,  I's  gwine  to  tell  you,  if  you  gimme  a 
chanst,  mammy.  De  reason  it  ain't  enough  is 
'ca'se  Marse  Tom  gambles." 

Roxy  threw  up  her  hands  in  astonishment  and 
Chambers  went  on: 

"Ole  marster  found  it  out,  'ca'se  he  had  to  pay 
two  hundred  dollahs  for  Marse  Tom's  gamblin' 
debts,  en  dat's  true,  mammy,  jes  as  dead  certain 
as  you's  bawn." 

"Two — hund'd — dollahs!  Why,  what  is  you 
talkin' 'bout?  Two — hund'd — dollahs.  Sakes  alive, 
59 


MARK    TWAIN 

it's  'mos'  enough  to  buy  a  tol'able  good  second-hand 
nigger  wid.  En  you  ain't  lyin',  honey? — You 
wouldn't  lie  to  yo'  ole  mammy?" 

"It's  God's  own  truth,  jes  as  I  tell  you — two 
hund'd  dollahs — I  wisht  I  may  never  stir  outen  my 
tracks  if  it  ain't  so.  En,  oh,  my  Ian',  ole  Marse 
was  jes  a-hoppin'!  he  was  b'ilin'  mad,  I  tell  youf 
He  tuck  'n'  dissenhurrit  him." 

He  licked  his  chops  with  relish  after  that  stately 
word.  Roxy  struggled  with  it  a  moment,  then  gave 
it  up  and  said : 

"Dissenwhiched  him?" 

' '  Dissenhurrit  him. ' ' 

' '  What's  dat  ?    What  do  it  mean  ?' ' 

"Means  he  bu'sted  de  will." 

"Bu's — ted  de  will!  He  wouldn't  ever  treat  him 
so!  Take  it  back,  you  mis'able  imitation  nigger 
dat  I  bore  in  sorrow  en  tribbilation." 

Roxy's  pet  castle — an  occasional  dollar  from 
Tom's  pocket — was  tumbling  to  ruin  before  her 
eyes.  She  could  not  abide  such  a  disaster  as  that; 
she  couldn't  endure  the  thought  of  it.  Her  remark 
amused  Chambers: 

"Yah-yah-yah!  jes  listen  to  dat!  If  I's  imita- 
tion, what  is  you?  Bofe  of  us  is  imitation  white — 
dat's  what  we  is — en  pow'ful  good  imitation,  too — 
yah-yah-yah! — we  don't  'mount  to  noth'n'  as  imita- 
tion niggers;  and  as  for — " 

"Shet  up  yo'  foolin',  'fo  I  knock  you  side  de  head, 
en  tell  me  'bout  de  will.  Tell  me  'tain't  bu'sted — do, 
honey,  en  I'll  never  forgit  you." 

"Well,  'tain't — 'ca'se  dey's  a  new  one  made,  en 
60 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

Marse  Tom's  all  right  ag'in.  But  what  is  you  in 
sich  a  sweat  'bout  it  for,  mammy?  'Tain't  none  o* 
your  business  I  don't  reckon." 

'"Tain't  none  o'  my  business?  Whose  business 
is  it  den,  I'd  like  to  know?  Wuz  I  his  mother  tell  he 
was  fifteen  years  old,  or  wusn't  I? — you  answer  me 
dat.  En  you  speck  I  could  see  him  turned  out  po' 
en  ornery  on  de  worl'  en  never  care  noth'n'  'bout  it  ? 
I  reckon  if  you'd  ever  be'n  a  mother  yo'self ,  Valet  de 
Chambers,  you  wouldn't  talk  sich  foolishness  as  dat." 

"Well,  den,  ole  Marse  forgive  him  en  fixed  up  de 
will  ag'in — do  dat  satisfy  you?" 

Yes,  she  was  satisfied  now,  and  quite  happy  and 
sentimental  over  it.  She  kept  coming  daily,  and  at 
last  she  was  told  that  Tom  had  come  home.  She 
began  to  tremble  with  emotion,  and  straightway  sent 
to  beg  him  to  let  his  "po'  ole  nigger  mammy  have 
jes  one  sight  of  him  en  die  for  joy." 

Tom  was  stretched  at  his  lazy  ease  on  a  sofa  when 
Chambers  brought  the  petition.  Time  had  not  modi- 
fied his  ancient  detestation  of  the  humble  drudge 
and  protector  of  his  boyhood;  it  was  still  bitter  and 
uncompromising.  He  sat  up  and  bent  a  severe  gaze 
upon  the  fair  face  of  the  young  fellow  whose  name 
he  was  unconsciously  using  and  whose  family  rights 
he  was  enjoying.  He  maintained  the  gaze  until  the 
victim  of  it  had  become  satisfactorily  pallid  with 
terror,  then  he  said: 

"What  does  the  old  rip  want  with  me?" 

The  petition  was  meekly  repeated. 

"Who  gave  you  permission  to  come  and  disturb 
me  with  the  social  attentions  of  niggers?" 
61 


MARK    TWAIN 

Tom  had  risen.  The  other  young  man  was  trem- 
bling now,  visibly.  He  saw  what  was  coming,  and 
bent  his  head  sideways,  and  put  up  his  left  arm  to 
shield  it.  Tom  rained  cuffs  upon  the  head  and  its 
shield,  saying  no  word;  the  victim  received  each 
blow  with  a  beseeching  "Please,  Marse  Tom! — oh, 
please,  Marse  Tom!"  Seven  blows — then  Tom  said, 
"Face  the  door — march!"  He  followed  behind  with 
one,  two,  three  solid  kicks.  The  last  one  helped  the 
pure-white  slave  over  the  door-sill,  and  he  limped 
away  mopping  his  eyes  with  his  old  ragged  sleeve. 
Tom  shouted  after  him,  "Send  her  in!" 

Then  he  flung  himself  panting  on  the  sofa  again, 
and  rasped  out  the  remark,  "He  arrived  just  at  the 
right  moment;  I  was  full  to  the  brim  with  bitter 
thinkings,  and  nobody  to  take  it  out  of.  How  re- 
freshing it  was !  I  feel  better." 

Tom's  mother  entered  now,  closing  the  door  be- 
hind her,  and  approached  her  son  with  all  the  whee- 
dling and  supplicating  servilities  that  fear  and  inter- 
est can  impart  to  the  words  and  attitudes  of  the 
born  slave.  She  stopped  a  yard  from  her  boy  and 
made  two  or  three  admiring  exclamations  over  his 
manly  stature  and  general  handsomeness,  and  Tom 
put  an  arm  under  his  head  and  hoisted  a  leg  over 
the  sofa-back  in  order  to  look  properly  indifferent. 

"My  Ian',  how  you  is  growed,  honey!  'Clah  to 
goodness,  I  wouldn't  'a'  knowed  you,  Marse  Tom! 
'deed  I  wouldn't!  Look  at  me  good;  does  you 
'member  old  Roxy? — does  you  know  yo'  old  nigger 
mammy,  honey?  Well,  now,  I  kin  lay  down  en  die 
in  peace,  'ca'se  I's  seed — " 
62 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

"Cut  it  short,  it,  cut  it  short!  What  is  it 

you  want?" 

"You  heah  dat?  Jes  de  same  old  Marse  Tom, 
al'ays  so  gay  and  funnin'  wid  de  old  mammy.  I 
'uz  jes  as  shore — " 

"Cut  it  short,  I  tell  you,  and  get  along!  What 
do  you  want?" 

This  was  a  bitter  disappointment.  Roxy  had  for 
so  many  days  nourished  and  fondled  and  petted  her 
notion  that  Tom  would  be  glad  to  see  his  old  nurse, 
and  would  make  her  proud  and  happy  to  the  marrow 
with  a  cordial  word  or  two,  that  it  took  two  rebuffs 
to  convince  her  that  he  was  not  funning,  and  that 
her  beautiful  dream  was  a  fond  and  foolish  vanity,  a 
shabby  and  pitiful  mistake.  She  was  hurt  to  the 
heart,  and  so  ashamed  that  for  a  moment  she  did 
not  quite  know  what  to  do  or  how  to  act.  Then 
her  breast  began  to  heave,  the  tears  came,  and  in 
her  forlornness  she  was  moved  to  try  that  other 
dream  of  hers — an  appeal  to  her  boy's  charity; 
and  so,  upon  the  impulse,  and  without  reflection, 
she  offered  her  supplication : 

"Oh,  Marse  Tom,  de  po'  ole  mammy  is  in  sich 
hard  luck  dese  days;  en  she's  kinder  crippled  in  de 
arms  en  can't  work,  en  if  you  could  gimme  a  dollah 
— on'y  jes  one  little  dol — " 

Tom  was  on  his  feet  so  suddenly  that  the  suppli- 
cant was  startled  into  a  jump  herself. 

"A  dollar! — give  you  a  dollar!  I've  a  notion  to 
strangle  you!  Is  that  your  errand  here?  Clear  out! 
and  be  quick  about  it!" 

Roxy  backed  slowly  toward  the  door.  When 
63 


MARK    TWAIN 

she  was  half-way  she  stopped,  and  said  mourn- 
fully: 

"Marse  Tom,  I  nussed  you  when  you  was  a  little 
baby,  en  I  raised  you  all  by  myself  tell  you  was 
'most  a  young  man;  en  now  you  is  young  en  rich, 
en  I  is  po'  en  gitt'n  ole,  en  I  come  heah  b'lievin* 
dat  you  would  he'p  de  ole  mammy  'long  down  de 
little  road  dat's  lef  twix'  her  en  de  grave,  en — " 

Tom  relished  this  tune  less  than  any  that  had 
preceded  it,  for  it  began  to  wake  up  a  sort  of  echo 
in  his  conscience;  so  he  interrupted  and  said  with 
decision,  though  without  asperity,  that  he  was  not 
in  a  situation  to  help  her,  and  wasn't  going  to  do  it. 

"Ain't  you  ever  gwine  to  he'p  me,  Marse  Tom?" 

"No!  Now  go  away  and  don't  bother  me  any 
more." 

Roxy's  head  was  down,  in  an  attitude  of  humility. 
But  now  the  fires  of  her  old  wrongs  flamed  up  in 
her  breast  and  began  to  burn  fiercely.  She  raised 
her  head  slowly,  till  it  was  well  up,  and  at  the  same 
time  her  great  frame  unconsciously  assumed  an 
erect  and  masterful  attitude,  with  all  the  majesty 
and  grace  of  her  vanished  youth  in  it.  She  raised 
her  finger  and  punctuated  with  it: 

"You  has  said  de  word.  You  has  had  yo'  chance, 
en  you  has  trompled  it  under  yo'  foot.  When  you 
git  another  one,  you'll  git  down  on  yo*  knees  en 
beg  for  it!" 

A  cold  chill  went  to  Tom's  heart,  he  didn't  know 
why;  for  he  did  not  reflect  that  such  words,  from 
such  an  incongruous  source,  and  so  solemnly  de- 
livered, could  not  easily  fail  of  that  effect.  How- 
64 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

ever,  he  did  the  natural  thing;  he  replied  with 
bluster  and  mockery: 

"You'll  give  me  a  chance — you!  Perhaps  I'd 
better  get  down  on  my  knees  now!  But  in  case  I 
don't — just  for  argument's  sake — what's  going  to 
happen,  pray?" 

"Dis  is  what  is  gwine  to  happen.  I's  gwine  as 
straight  to  yo'  uncle  as  I  kin  walk,  en  tell  him  every 
las'  thing  I  knows  'bout  you." 

Tom's  cheek  blenched,  and  she  saw  it.  Disturb- 
ing thoughts  began  to  chase  each  other  through  his 
head.  "How  can  she  know?  And  yet  she  must 
have  found  out — she  looks  it.  I've  had  the  will 
back  only  three  months,  and  am  already  deep  in 
debt  again,  and  moving  heaven  and  earth  to  save 
myself  from  exposure  and  destruction,  with  a  reason- 
ably fair  show  of  getting  the  thing  covered  up  if 
I'm  let  alone,  and  now  this  fiend  has  gone  and  found 
me  out  somehow  or  other.  I  wonder  how  much  she 
knows?  Oh,  oh,  oh,  it's  enough  to  break  a  body's 
heart!  But  I've  got  to  humor  her — there's  no  other 
way." 

Then  he  worked  up  a  rather  sickly  sample  of  a 
gay  laugh  and  a  hollow  chipperness  of  manner,  and 
said: 

"Well,  well,  Roxy  dear,  old  friends  like  you  and 
me  mustn't  quarrel.  Here's  your  dollar — now  tell 
me  what  you  know." 

He  held  out  the  wildcat  bill;    she  stood  as  she 

was,  and  made  no  movement.     It  was  her  turn  to 

scorn  persuasive  foolery  now,  and  she  did  not  waste 

it.    She  said,  with  a  grim  implacability  in  voice  and 

65 


MARK    TWAIN 

manner  which  made  Tom  almost  realize  that  even 
a  former  slave  can  remember  for  ten  minutes  insults 
and  injuries  returned  for  compliments  and  flatteries 
received,  and  can  also  enjoy  taking  revenge  for  them 
when  the  opportunity  offers: 

"What  does  I  know?  I'll  tell  you  what  I  knows. 
I  knows  enough  to  bu'st  dat  will  to  flinders — en 
more,  mind  you,  more!" 

Tom  was  aghast. 

"More?"  he  said.  "What  do  you  call  more? 
Where's  there  any  room  for  more?" 

Roxy  laughed  a  mocking  laugh,  and  said  scoff  - 
ingly,  with  a  toss  of  her  head,  and  her  hands  on 
her  hips : 

"Yes! — oh,  I  reckon!  Co'se  you'd  like  to  know 
— wid  yo'  po'  little  old  rag  dollah.  What  you 
reckon  I's  gwine  to  tell  you  for? — you  ain't  got 
no  money.  I's  gwine  to  tell  yo'  uncle — en  I'll  do 
it  dis  minute,  too — he'll  gimme  five  dollahs  for  de 
news,  en  mighty  glad,  too." 

She  swung  herself  around  disdainfully,  and  started 
away.  Tom  was  in  a  panic.  He  seized  her  skirts, 
and  implored  her  to  wait.  She  turned  and  said, 
loftily: 

" Look-a-heah,  what  'uz  it  I  tole  you?" 

"You — you — I  don't  remember  anything.  What 
was  it  you  told  me?" 

"I  tole  you  dat  de  next  time  I  give  you  a  chance 
you'd  git  down  on  yo'  knees  en  beg  for  it." 

Tom  was  stupefied  for  a  moment.  He  was  pant- 
ing with  excitement.  Then  he  said : 

"Oh,  Roxy,  you  wouldn't  require  your  young 
16 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

master  to  do  such  a  horrible   thing.    You  can't 
mean  it." 

"I'll  let  you  know  mighty  quick  whether  I  means 
it  or  not !  You  call  me  names,  en  as  good  as  spit 
on  me  when  I  comes  here  po'  en  ornery  en  'umble, 
to  praise  you  for  bein'  growed  up  so  fine  en  hand- 
some, en  tell  you  how  I  used  to  nuss  you  en  tend 
you  en  watch  you  when  you  'uz  sick  en  hadn't  no 
mother  but  me  in  de  whole  worl',  en  beg  you  to  give 
de  po'  ole  nigger  a  dollah  for  to  git  her  som'n'  to 
eat,  en  you  call  me  names — names,  dad  blame  you! 
Yassir,  I  gives  you  jes  one  chance  mo',  and  dat's 
now,  en  it  las'  on'y  a  half  a  second — yo  hear?" 

Tom  slumped  to  his  knees  and  began  to  beg, 
saying: 

"You  see,  I'm  begging,  and  it's  honest  begging, 
too!  Now  tell  me,  Roxy,  tell  me!" 

The  heir  of  two  centuries  of  unatoned  insult  and 
outrage  looked  down  on  him  and  seemed  to  drink  in 
deep  draughts  of  satisfaction.  Then  she  said: 

"Fine  nice  young  white  gen'l'man  kneelin'  down 
to  a  nigger  wench!  I's  wanted  to  see  dat  jes  once 
befo'  I's  called.  Now,  Gabr'el,  blow  de  hawn,  I's 
ready.  .  .  .  Git  up!" 

Tom  did  it.     He  said,  humbly: 

"Now,  Roxy,  don't  punish  me  any  more.  I 
deserved  what  I've  got,  but  be  good  and  let  me  off 
with  that.  Don't  go  to  uncle.  Tell  me — I'll  give 
you  the  five  dollars." 

"Yes,  I  bet  you  will;  en  you  won't  stop  dah, 
nuther.  But  I  ain't  gwine  to  tell  you  heah — " 

"Good  gracious,  no!" 

67 


MARK     TWAIN 

"Is  you  'feared  o'  de  ha'nted  house?" 

"N-no." 

"Well,  den,  you  come  to  de  ha'nted  house  'bout 
ten  or  'leven  to-night,  en  climb  up  de  ladder,  'ca'se 
de  sta'r-steps  is  broke  down,  en  you'll  find  me.  I's 
a-roostin'  in  de  ha'nted  house  'ca'se  I  can't  'ford  to 
roos'  nowhers'  else."  She  started  toward  the  door, 
but  stopped  and  said,  "Gimme  de  dollah  bill!" 
He  gave  it  to  her.  She  examined  it  and  said, 
' '  H'm — like  enough  de  bank's  bu'sted. "  She  started 
again,  but  halted  again.  ' '  Has  you  got  any  whisky  ?' ' 

"Yes,  a  little." 

"Fetch  it!" 

He  ran  to  his  room  overhead  and  brought  down  a 
bottle  which  was  two- thirds  full.  She  tilted  it  up 
and  took  a  drink.  Her  eyes  sparkled  with  satisfac- 
tion and  she  tucked  the  bottle  under  her  shawl,  say- 
ing, "It's  prime.  I'll  take  it  along." 

Tom  humbly  held  the  door  for  her,  and  she 
marched  out  as  grim  and  erect  as  a  grenadier. 


CHAPTER  IX 

Why  is  it  that  we  rejoice  at  a  birth  and  grieve  at  a  funeral? 
It  is  because  we  are  not  the  person  involved. 

—Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

It  is  easy  to  find  fault,  if  one  has  that  disposition.  There 
was  once  a  man  who,  not  being  able  to  find  any  other  fault  with 
his  coal,  complained  that  there  were  too  many  prehistoric 
toads  in  it. — Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

TOM  flung  himself  on  the  sofa,  and  put  his  throb- 
bing head  in  his  hands,  and  rested  his  elbows 
on  his  knees.  He  rocked  himself  back  and  forth 
and  moaned. 

"I've  knelt  to  a  nigger  wench!"  he  muttered. 
"I  thought  I  had  struck  the  deepest  depths  of 
degradation  before,  but  oh,  dear,  it  was  nothing  to 
this.  .  .  .  Well,  there  is  one  consolation,  such  as  it 
is — I've  struck  bottom  this  time;  there's  nothing 
lower." 

But  that  was  a  hasty  conclusion. 

At  ten  that  night  he  climbed  the  ladder  in  the 
haunted  house,  pale,  weak,  and  wretched.  Roxy 
was  standing  in  the  door  of  one  of  the  rooms,  wait- 
ing, for  she  had  heard  him. 

This  was  a  two-story  log  house  which  had  ac- 
quired the  reputation  a  few  years  before  of  being 
haunted,  and  that  was  the  end  of  its  usefulness. 
69 


MARK     TWAIN 

Nobody  would  live  in  it  afterward,  or  go  near  it  by 
night,  and  most  people  even  gave  it  a  wide  berth  in 
the  daytime.  As  it  had  no  competition,  it  was 
called  the  haunted  house.  It  was  getting  crazy  and 
ruinous  now  from  long  neglect.  It  stood  three 
hundred  yards  beyond  Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  house, 
with  nothing  between  but  vacancy.  It  was  the  last 
house  in  the  town  at  that  end. 

Tom  followed  Roxy  into  the  room.  She  had  a 
pile  of  clean  straw  in  the  corner  for  a  bed,  some 
cheap  but  well-kept  clothing  was  hanging  on  the 
wall,  there  was  a  tin  lantern  freckling  the  floor  with 
little  spots  of  light,  and  there  were  various  soap  and 
candle  boxes  scattered  about,  which  served  for  chairs. 
The  two  sat  down.  Roxy  said : 

"Now  den,  I'll  tell  you  straight  off,  en  I'll  begin 
to  k'leck  de  money  later  on;  I  ain't  in  no  hurry. 
What  does  you  reckon  I's  gwine  to  tell  you?" 

"Well,  you — you — oh,  Roxy,  don't  make  it  too 
hard  for  me!  Come  right  out  and  tell  me  you've 
found  out  somehow  what  a  shape  I'm  in  on  account 
of  dissipation  and  foolishness." 

"Disposition  en  foolishness!  No,  sir,  dat  ain't  it. 
Dat  jist  ain't  nothin'  at  all,  'longside  o'  what  / 
knows." 

Tom  stared  at  her,  and  said: 

"Why,  Roxy,  what  do  you  mean?" 

She  rose,  and  gloomed  above  him  like  a  Fate. 

"I  mean  dis — en  it's  de  Lord's  truth.  You  ain't 
no  more  kin  to  ole  Marse  Driscoll  den  I  is! — dat's 
what  I  means!"  and  her  eyes  flamed  with  triumph. 

"What!" 

70 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

"Yassir,  en  dat  ain't  all!  You's  a  nigger! — bawn 
a  nigger  en  a  slave! — en  you's  a  nigger  en  a  slave 
dis  minute;  en  if  I  opens  my  mouf  ole  Marse  Driscoll 
'11  sell  you  down  de  river  befo'  you  is  two  days  older 
den  what  you  is  now!" 

"It's  a  thundering  lie,  you  miserable  old  blather- 
skite!" 

"It  ain't  no  lie,  nuther.  It's  jes  de  truth,  en 
nothin'  but  de  truth,  so  he'p  me.  Yassir — you's 
my  son — " 

"You  devil!" 

"En  dat  po*  boy  dat  you's  be'n  a-kicken'  en  a- 
cuffin'  to-day  is  Percy  Driscoll's  son  en  yo'  marster — " 

"You  beast!" 

"En  his  name's  Tom  Driscoll,  en  yo'  name's  Valet 
de  Chambers,  en  you  ain't  got  no  fambly  name, 
beca'se  niggers  don't  have  em!" 

Tom  sprang  up  and  seized  a  billet  of  wood  and 
raised  it;  but  his  mother  only  laughed  at  him,  and 
said: 

"Set  down,  you  pup!  Does  you  think  you  kin 
skyer  me?  It  ain't  in  you,  nor  de  likes  of  you.  I 
reckon  you'd  shoot  me  in  de  back,  maybe,  if  you 
got  a  chance,  for  dat's  jist  yo'  style — I  knows  you, 
throo  en  throo — but  I  don't  mind  gitt'n  killed, 
beca'se  all  dis  is  down  in  writin'  en  it's  in  safe 
hands,  too,  en  de  man  dat's  got  it  knows  whah  to 
look  for  de  right  man  when  I  gits  killed.  Oh,  bless 
yo'  soul,  if  you  puts  yo'  mother  up  for  as  big  a  fool 
as  you  is,  you's  pow'ful  mistaken,  I  kin  tell  you! 
Now  den,  you  set  still  en  behave  yo'self;  en  don't 
you  git  up  ag'in  till  I  tell  you!" 


MARK    TWAIN 

Tom  fretted  and  chafed  awhile  in  a  whirlwind  of 
disorganizing  sensations  and  emotions,  and  finally 
said,  with  something  like  settied  conviction: 

"The  whole  thing  is  moonshine;  now  then,  go 
ahead  and  do  your  worst;  I'm  done  with  you." 

Roxy  made  no  answer.  She  took  the  lantern  and 
started  toward  the  door.  Tom  was  in  a  cold  panic 
in  a  moment. 

"Come  back,  come  back!"  he  wailed.  "I  didn't 
mean  it,  Roxy;  I  take  it  all  back,  and  I'll  never 
say  it  again!  Please  come  back,  Roxy!" 

The  woman  stood  a  moment,  then  she  said 
gravely : 

"Dat's  one  thing  you's  got  to  stop,  Valet  de 
Chambers.  You  can't  call  me  Roxy,  same  as  if  you 
was  my  equal.  Chillen  don't  speak  to  dey  mammies 
like  dat.  You'll  call  me  ma  or  mammy,  dat's  what 
you'll  call  me — leastways  when  dey  ain't  nobody 
aroun'.  Sa;yit!" 

It  cost  Tom  a  struggle,  but  he  got  it  out. 

"Dat's  all  right.  Don't  you  ever  forgit  it  ag'in, 
if  you  knows  what's  good  for  you.  Now  den,  you 
has  said  you  wouldn't  ever  call  it  lies  en  moonshine 
ag'in.  I'll  tell  you  dis,  for  a  warnin':  if  you  ever 
does  say  it  ag'in,  it's  de  las'  time  you'll  ever  say  it 
to  me;  I'll  tramp  as  straight  to  de  Judge  as  I  kin 
walk,  en  tell  him  who  you  is,  en  prove  it.  Does  you 
b'lieve  me  when  I  says  dat?" 

"Oh,"  groaned  Tom,  "I  more  than  believe  it;  I 
know  it." 

Roxy  knew  her  conquest  was  complete.  She  could 
have  proved  nothing  to  anybody,  and  her  threat 
72 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

about  the  writings  was  a  lie ;  but  she  knew  the  person 
she  was  dealing  with,  and  had  made  both  statements 
without  any  doubt  as  to  the  effect  they  would 
produce. 

She  went  and  sat  down  on  her  candle-box,  and 
the  pride  and  pomp  of  her  victorious  attitude  made 
it  a  throne.  She  said: 

"Now  den,  Chambers,  we's  gwine  to  talk  busi- 
ness, en  dey  ain't  gwine  to  be  no  mo'  foolishness. 
In  de  fust  place,  you  gits  fifty  dollahs  a  month; 
you's  gwine  to  han'  over  half  of  it  to  yo'  ma.  Plank 
it  out!" 

But  Tom  had  only  six  dollars  in  the  world.  He 
gave  her  that,  and  promised  to  start  fair  on  next 
month's  pension. 

"Chambers,  how  much  is  you  in  debt?" 

Tom  shuddered,  and  said: 

"Nearly  three  hundred  dollars." 

"How  is  you  gwine  to  pay  it?" 

Tom  groaned  out —  "Oh,  I  don't  know;  don't 
ask  me  such  awful  questions." 

But  she  stuck  to  her  point  until  she  wearied  a 
confession  out  of  him :  he  had  been  prowling  about  in 
disguise,  stealing  small  valuables  from  private  houses; 
in  fact,  had  made  a  good  deal  of  a  raid  on  his  fellow- 
villagers  a  fortnight  before,  when  he  was  supposed 
to  be  in  St.  Louis;  but  he  doubted  if  he  had  sent 
away  enough  stuff  to  realize  the  required  amount, 
and  was  afraid  to  make  a  further  venture  in  the 
present  excited  state  of  the  town.  His  mother 
approved  of  his  conduct,  and  offered  to  help,  but 
this  frightened  him.  He  tremblingly  ventured  to 
6  73 


MARK    TWAIN 

say  that  if  she  would  retire  from  the  town  he  should 
feel  better  and  safer,  and  could  hold  his  head  higher 
— and  was  going  on  to  make  an  argument,  but  she 
interrupted  and  surprised  him  pleasantly  by  saying 
she  was  ready;  it  didn't  make  any  difference  to  her 
where  she  stayed,  so  that  she  got  her  share  of  the 
pension  regularly.  She  said  she  would  not  go  far, 
and  would  call  at  the  haunted  house  once  a  month 
for  her  money.  Then  she  said : 

"I  don't  hate  you  so  much  now,  but  I've  hated 
you  a  many  a  year — and  anybody  would.  Didn't 
I  change  you  off,  en  give  you  a  good  fambly  en  a 
good  name,  en  made  you  a  white  genTman  en  rich, 
wid  store  clothes  on — en  what  did  I  git  for  it  ?  You 
despised  me  all  de  time,  en  was  al'ays  sayin'  mean 
hard  things  to  me  befo'  folks,  en  wouldn't  ever  let 
me  forgit  I's  a  nigger — en — en — " 

She  fell  to  sobbing,  and  broke  down.     Tom  said: 

"But  you  know  I  didn't  know  you  were  my 
mother;  and  besides — " 

"Well,  nemmine  'bout  dat,  now;  let  it  go.  I's 
gwine  to  fo'git  it."  Then  she  added  fiercely,  "En 
don't  ever  make  me  remember  it  ag'in,  or  you'll  be 
sorry,  /  tell  you." 

When  they  were  parting,  Tom  said,  in  the  most 
persuasive  way  he  could  command: 

"Ma,  would  you  mind  telling  me  who  was  my 
father?" 

He  had  supposed  he  was  asking  an  embarrassing 
question.  He  was  mistaken.  Roxy  drew  herself 
up  with  a  proud  toss  of  her  head,  and  said : 

"Does  I  mine  tellin'  you?  No,  dat  I  don't! 
74 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

You  ain't  got  no  'casion  to  be  shame'  o'  yo'  father, 
/  kin  tell  you.  He  wuz  the  highest  quality  in  dis 
whole  town — ole  Virginny  stock.  Fust  famblies,  he 
wuz.  Je3  as  good  stock  as  de  Driscolls  en  de  How- 
ards, de  bes'  day  dey  ever  seed."  She  put  on  a  little 
prouder  air,  if  possible,  and  added  impressively: 
''Does  you  'member  Gunnel  Cecil  Burleigh  Essex, 
dat  died  de  same  year  yo'  young  Marse  Tom  Dris- 
coll's  pappy  died,  en  all  de  Masons  en  Odd  Fellers 
en  Churches  turned  out  en  give  him  de  bigges' 
funeral  dis  town  ever  seed?  Dat's  de  man." 

Under  the  inspiration  of  her  soaring  complacency 
the  departed  graces  of  her  earlier  days  returned  to 
her,  and  her  bearing  took  to  itself  a  dignity  and 
state  that  might  have  passed  for  queenly  if  her  sur- 
roundings had  been  a  little  more  in  keeping  with  it. 

"Dey  ain't  another  nigger  in  dis  town  dat's  as 
high-bawn  as  you  is.  Now  den,  go  'long!  En  jes 
you  hold  yo'  head  up  as  high  as  you  want  to — you 
has  de  right,  en  dat  I  kin  swah." 


CHAPTER  X 

All  say,  "How  hard  it  is  that  we  have  to  die" — a  strange  com- 
plaint to  come  from  the  mouths  of  people  who  have  had  to  live. 
— Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

When  angry,  count  four;   when  very  angry,  swear. 

— Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

EVERY  now  and  then,  after  Tom  went  to  bed,  he 
had  sudden  wakings  out  of  his  sleep,  and  his 
first  thought  was,  "Oh,  joy,  it  was  all  a  dream!" 
Then  he  laid  himself  heavily  down  again,  with  a 
groan  and  the  muttered  words,  "A  nigger!  I  am  a 
nigger!  Oh,  I  wish  I  was  dead!" 

He  woke  at  dawn  with  one  more  repetition  of  this 
horror,  and  then  he  resolved  to  meddle  no  more  with 
that  treacherous  sleep.  He  began  to  think.  Suffi- 
ciently bitter  thinkings  they  were.  They  wandered 
along  something  after  this  fashion: 

"Why  were  niggers  and  whites  made?  What 
crime  did  the  uncreated  first  nigger  commit  that  the 
curse  of  birth  was  decreed  for  him?  And  why  is 
this  awful  difference  made  between  white  and  black? 
.  .  .  How  hard  the  nigger's  fate  seems,  this  morn- 
ing!— yet  until  last  night  such  a  thought  never 
entered  my  head." 

He  sighed  and  groaned  an  hour  or  more  away. 
Then  "Chambers"  came  humbly  in  to  say  that 
76 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

breakfast  was  nearly  ready.  ' '  Tom ' '  blushed  scarlet 
to  see  this  aristocratic  white  youth  cringe  to  him, 
a  nigger,  and  call  him  "Young  Marster."  He  said 
roughly : 

"Get  out  of  my  sight!"  and  when  the  youth  was 
gone,  he  muttered,  "He  has  done  me  no  harm, 
poor  wretch,  but  he  is  an  eyesore  to  me  now,  for  he 
is  Driscoll  the  young  gentleman,  and  I  am  a — oh, 
I  wish  I  was  dead!" 

A  gigantic  eruption,  like  that  of  Krakatoa  a  few 
years  ago,  with  the  accompanying  earthquakes, 
tidal  waves,  and  clouds  of  volcanic  dust,  changes  the 
face  of  the  surrounding  landscape  beyond  recogni- 
tion, bringing  down  the  high  lands,  elevating  the  low, 
making  fair  lakes  where  deserts  had  been,  and 
deserts  where  green  prairies  had  smiled  before.  The 
tremendous  catastrophe  which  had  befallen  Tom  had 
changed  his  moral  landscape  in  much  the  same  way. 
Some  of  his  low  places  he  found  lifted  to  ideals, 
some  of  his  ideals  had  sunk  to  the  valleys,  and  lay 
there  with  the  sackcloth  and  ashes  of  pumice-stone 
and  sulphur  on  their  ruined  heads. 

For  days  he  wandered  in  lonely  places,  thinking, 
thinking,  thinking — trying  to  get  his  bearings.  It 
was  new  work.  If  he  met  a  friend,  he  found  that  the 
habit  of  a  lifetime  had  in  some  mysterious  way  van- 
ished— his  arm  hung  limp,  instead  of  involuntarily 
extending  the  hand  for  a  shake.  It  was  the  "nigger" 
in  him  asserting  its  humility,  and  he  blushed  and  was 
abashed.  And  the  "nigger"  in  him  was  surprised 
when  the  white  friend  put  out  his  hand  for  a  shake 
with  him.  He  found  the  "nigger"  in  him  involun- 
77 


MARK    TWAIN 

tarily  giving  the  road,  on  the  sidewalk,  to  the  white 
rowdy  and  loafer.  When  Rowena,  the  dearest  thing 
his  heart  knew,  the  idol  of  his  secret  worship,  invited 
him  in,  the  "nigger"  in  him  made  an  embarrassed 
excuse  and  was  afraid  to  enter  and  sit  with  the  dread 
white  folks  on  equal  terms.  The  "nigger"  in  him 
went  shrinking  and  skulking  here  and  there  and 
yonder,  and  fancying  it  saw  suspicion  and  maybe 
detection  in  all  faces,  tones,  and  gestures.  So  strange 
and  uncharacteristic  was  Tom's  conduct  that  people 
noticed  it,  and  turned  to  look  after  him  when  he 
passed  on;  and  when  he  glanced  back — as  he  could 
not  help  doing,  in  spite  of  his  best  resistance — and 
caught  that  puzzled  expression  in  a  person's  face,  it 
gave  him  a  sick  feeling,  and  he  took  himself  out  of 
view  as  quickly  as  he  could.  He  presently  came  to 
have  a  hunted  sense  and  a  hunted  look,  and  then 
he  fled  away  to  the  hilltops  and  the  solitudes.  He 
said  to  himself  that  the  curse  of  Ham  was  upon  him. 

He  dreaded  his  meals;  the  "nigger"  in  him  was 
ashamed  to  sit  at  the  white  folks'  table,  and  feared 
discovery  all  the  time;  and  once  when  Judge  Driscoll 
said,  "What's  the  matter  with  you?  You  look  as 
meek  as  a  nigger,"  he  felt  as  secret  murderers  are 
said  to  feel  when  the  accuser  says,  "Thou  art  the 
man!"  Tom  said  he  was  not  well,  and  left  the  table. 

His  ostensible  "aunt's"  solicitudes  and  endear- 
ments were  become  a  terror  to  him,  and  he  avoided 
them. 

And  all  the  time,  hatred  of  his  ostensible  "uncle" 
was  steadily  growing  in  his  heart;  for  he  said  to 
himself,  "He  is  white;  and  I  am  his  chattel,  his 
78 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

property,  his  goods,  and  he  can  sell  me,  just  as  he 
could  his  dog." 

For  as  much  as  a  week  after  this,  Tom  imagined 
that  his  character  had  undergone  a  pretty  radical 
change.  But  that  was  because  he  did  not  know 
himself. 

In  several  ways  his  opinions  were  totally  changed, 
and  would  never  go  back  to  what  they  were  before, 
but  the  main  structure  of  his  character  was  not 
changed,  and  could  not  be  changed.  One  or  two 
very  important  features  of  it  were  altered,  and  in 
time  effects  would  result  from  this,  if  opportunity 
offered — effects  of  a  quite  serious  nature,  too. 
Under  the  influence  of  a  great  mental  and  moral 
upheaval  his  character  and  habits  had  taken  on  the 
appearance  of  complete  change,  but  after  a  while 
with  the  subsidence  of  the  storm  both  began  to  settle 
toward  their  former  places.  He  dropped  gradually 
back  into  his  old  frivolous  and  easy-going  ways  and 
conditions  of  feeling  and  manner  of  speech,  and  no 
familiar  of  his  could  have  detected  anything  in  him 
that  differentiated  him  from  the  weak  and  careless 
Tom  of  other  days. 

The  theft-raid  which  he  had  made  upon  the  village 
turned  out  better  than  he  had  ventured  to  hope.  It 
produced  the  sum  necessary  to  pay  his  gaming 
debts,  and  saved  him  from  exposure  to  his  uncle  and 
another  smashing  of  the  will.  He  and  his  mother 
learned  to  like  each  other  fairly  well.  She  couldn't 
love  him,  as  yet,  because  there  "warn't  nothing  to 
him,"  as  she  expressed  it,  but  her  nature  needed 
something  or  somebody  to  rule  over,  and  he  was 
79 


MARK    TWAIN 

better  than  nothing.  Her  strong  character  and 
aggressive  and  commanding  ways  compelled  Tom's 
admiration  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  got  more  illus- 
trations of  them  than  he  needed  for  his  comfort. 
However,  as  a  rule  her  conversation  was  made  up  of 
racy  tattle  about  the  privacies  of  the  chief  families 
of  the  town  (for  she  went  harvesting  among  their 
kitchens  every  time  she  came  to  the  village),  and 
Tom  enjoyed  this.  It  was  just  in  his  line.  She 
always  collected  her  half  of  his  pension  punctually, 
and  he  was  always  at  the  haunted  house  to  have  a 
chat  with  her  on  these  occasions.  Every  now  and 
then  she  paid  him  a  visit  there  on  between-days  also. 

Occasionally  he  would  run  up  to  St.  Louis  for  a 
few  weeks,  and  at  last  temptation  caught  him  again. 
He  won  a  lot  of  money,  but  lost  it,  and  with  it  a 
deal  more  besides,  which  he  promised  to  raise  as 
soon  as  possible. 

For  this  purpose  he  projected  a  new  raid  on  his 
town.  He  never  meddled  with  any  other  town,  for 
he  was  afraid  to  venture  into  the  houses  whose  ins  and 
outs  he  did  not  know  and  the  habits  of  whose  house- 
holds he  was  not  acquainted  with.  He  arrived  at 
the  haunted  house  in  disguise  on  the  Wednesday  be- 
fore the  advent  of  the  twins — after  writing  his  aunt 
Pratt  that  he  would  not  arrive  until  two  days  after 
— and  lay  in  hiding  there  with  his  mother  until 
toward  daylight  Friday  morning,  when  he  went  to  his 
uncle's  house  and  entered  by  the  back  way  with  his 
own  key,  and  slipped  up  to  his  room,  where  he  could 
have  the  use  of  mirror  and  toilet  articles.  He  had  a 
suit  of  girl's  clothes  with  him  in  a  bundle  as  a  dis- 
80 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

guise  for  his  raid,  and  was  wearing  a  suit  of  his 
mother's  clothing,  with  black  gloves  and  veil.  By 
dawn  he  was  tricked  out  for  his  raid,  but  he  caught 
a  glimpse  of  Pudd  'nhead  Wilson  through  the  window 
over  the  way,  and  knew  that  Pudd 'nhead  had  caught 
a  glimpse  of  him.  So  he  entertained  Wilson  with 
some  airs  and  graces  and  attitudes  for  a  while,  then 
stepped  out  of  sight  and  resumed  the  other  disguise, 
and  by  and  by  went  down  and  out  the  back  way,  and 
started  down-town  to  reconnoiter  the  scene  of  his 
intended  labors. 

But  he  was  ill  at  ease.  He  had  changed  back  to 
Roxy's  dress,  with  the  stoop  of  age  added  to  the 
disguise,  so  that  Wilson  would  not  bother  himself 
about  a  humble  old  woman  leaving  a  neighbor's 
house  by  the  back  way  in  the  early  morning,  in  case 
he  was  still  spying.  But  supposing  Wilson  had  seen 
him  leave,  and  had  thought  it  suspicious,  and  had 
also  followed  him?  The  thought  made  Tom  cold. 
He  gave  up  the  raid  for  the  day,  and  hurried  back 
to  the  haunted  house  by  the  obscurest  route  he  knew. 
His  mother  was  gone;  but  she  came  back,  by  and 
by,  with  the  news  of  the  grand  reception  at  Patsy 
Cooper's,  and  soon  persuaded  him  that  the  oppor- 
tunity was  like  a  special  providence,  it  was  so  invit- 
ing and  perfect.  So  he  went  raiding,  after  all,  and 
made  a  nice  success  of  it  while  everybody  was  gone 
to  Patsy  Cooper's.  Success  gave  him  nerve  and 
even  actual  intrepidity;  insomuch,  indeed,  that  after 
he  had  conveyed  his  harvest  to  his  mother  in  a  back 
alley,  he  went  to  the  reception  himself,  and  added 
several  of  the  valuables  of  that  house  to  his  takings. 
81 


MARK    TWAIN 

After  this  long  digression  we  have  now  arrived 
once  more  at  the  point  where  Pudd'nhead  Wilson, 
while  waiting  for  the  arrival  of  the  twins  on  that 
same  Friday  evening,  sat  puzzling  over  the  strange 
apparition  of  that  morning — a  girl  in  young  Tom 
Driscoll's  bedroom;  fretting,  and  guessing,  and 
puzzling  over  it,  and  wondering  who  the  shameless 
creature  might  be. 


CHAPTER  XI 

There  are  three  infallible  ways  of  pleasing  an  author,  and  the 
three  form  a  rising  scale  of  compliment:  i,  to  tell  him  you  have 
read  one  of  his  books;  2,  to  tell  him  you  have  read  all  of  his 
books;  3,  to  ask  him  to  let  you  read  the  manuscript  of  his 
forthcoming  book.  No.  i  admits  you  to  his  respect;  No.  2 
admits  you  to  his  admiration;  No.  3  carries  you  clear  into  his 
heart.  — Pudd'nhcad  Wilson's  Calendar. 

As  to  the  Adjective:  when  in  doubt,  strike  it  out. 

— Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

THE  twins  arrived  presently,  and  talk  began.  It 
flowed  along  chattily  and  sociably,  and  under 
its  influence  the  new  friendship  gathered  ease  and 
strength.  Wilson  got  out  his  Calendar,  by  request, 
and  read  a  passage  or  two  from  it,  which  the  twins 
praised  quite  cordially.  This  pleased  the  author  so 
much  that  he  complied  gladly  when  they  asked  him 
to  lend  them  a  batch  of  the  work  to  read  at  home. 
In  the  course  of  their  wide  travels  they  had  found 
out  that  there  are  three  sure  ways  of  pleasing  an 
author;  they  were  now  working  the  best  of  the  three. 
There  was  an  interruption,  now.  Young  Tom 
Driscoll  appeared,  and  joined  the  party.  He  pre- 
tended to  be  seeing  the  distinguished  strangers  for  the 
first  time  when  they  rose  to  shake  hands;  but  this 
was  only  a  blind,  as  he  had  already  had  a  glimpse  of 
them,  at  the  reception,  while  robbing  the  house. 
83 


MARK    TWAIN 

The  twins  made  mental  note  that  he  was  smooth- 
faced and  rather  handsome,  and  smooth  and  un- 
dulatory  in  his  movements  —  graceful,  in  fact. 
Angelo  thought  he  had  a  good  eye;  Luigi  thought 
there  was  something  veiled  and  sly  about  it.  Angelo 
thought  he  had  a  pleasant  free-and-easy  way  of 
talking;  Luigi  thought  it  was  more  so  than  was 
agreeable.  Angelo  thought  he  was  a  sufficiently  nice 
young  man;  Luigi  reserved  his  decision.  Tom's  first 
contribution  to  the  conversation  was  a  question 
which  he  had  put  to  Wilson  a  hundred  times  before. 
It  was  always  cheerily  and  good-naturedly  put,  and 
always  inflicted  a  little  pang,  for  it  touched  a  secret 
sore;  but  this  time  the  pang  was  sharp,  since  stran- 
gers were  present. 

"Well,  how  does  the  law  come  on?  Had  a  case 
yet?" 

Wilson  bit  his  lip,  but  answered,  "No — not  yet," 
with  as  much  indifference  as  he  could  assume. 
Judge  Driscoll  had  generously  left  the  law  feature 
out  of  the  Wilson  biography  which  he  had  furnished 
to  the  twins.  Young  Tom  laughed  pleasantly,  and 
said: 

"Wilson's  a  lawyer,  gentlemen,  but  he  doesn't 
practise  now." 

The  sarcasm  bit,  but  Wilson  kept  himself  under 
control,  and  said  without  passion: 

"I  don't  practise,  it  is  true.  It  is  true  that  I 
have  never  had  a  case,  and  have  had  to  earn  a  poor 
living  for  twenty  years  as  an  expert  accountant  in  a 
town  where  I  can't  get  hold  of  a  set  of  books  to  un- 
tangle as  often  as  I  should  like.  But  it  is  also  true 
84 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

that  I  did  fit  myself  well  for  the  practice  of  the  law. 
By  the  time  I  was  your  age,  Tom,  I  had  chosen  a 
profession,  and  was  soon  competent  to  enter  upon 
it."  Tom  winced.  "I  never  got  a  chance  to  try 
my  hand  at  it,  and  I  may  never  get  a  chance;  and 
yet  if  I  ever  do  get  it  I  shall  be  found  ready,  for  I 
have  kept  up  my  law  studies  all  these  years." 

"That's  it;  that's  good  grit!  I  like  to  see  "it. 
I've  a  notion  to  throw  all  my  business  your  way. 
My  business  and  your  law  practice  ought  to  make 
a  pretty  gay  team,  Dave,"  and  the  young  fellow 
laughed  again. 

"If  you  will  throw — "  Wilson  had  thought  of  the 
girl  in  Tom's  bedroom,  and  was  going  to  say,  "If 
you  will  throw  the  surreptitious  and  disreputable 
part  of  your  business  my  way,  it  may  amount  to 
something";  but  thought  better  of  it  and  said, 
"However,  this  matter  doesn't  fit  well  in  a  general 
conversation." 

"All  right,  we'll  change  the  subject;  I  guess  you 
were  about  to  give  me  another  dig,  anyway,  so  I'm 
willing  to  change.  How's  the  Awful  Mystery 
flourishing  these  days?  Wilson's  got  a  scheme  for 
driving  plain  window-glass  out  of  the  market  by 
decorating  it  with  greasy  finger-marks,  and  getting 
rich  by  selling  it  at  famine  prices  to  the  crowned 
heads  over  in  Europe  to  outfit  their  palaces  with. 
Fetch  it  out,  Dave." 

Wilson  brought  three  of  his  glass  strips,  and  said : 

"I  get  the  subject  to  pass  the  fingers  of  his  right 
hand  through  his  hair,  so  as  to  get  a  little  coating  of 
the  natural  oil  on  them,  and  then  press  the  balls  of 
8s 


MARK    TWAIN 

them  on  the  glass.  A  fine  and  delicate  print  of  the 
lines  in  the  skin  results,  and  is  permanent,  if  it 
doesn't  come  in  contact  with  something  able  to  rub 
it  off.  You  begin,  Tom." 

"Why,  I  think  you  took  my  finger-marks  once  or 
twice  before." 

"Yes,  but  you  were  a  little  boy  the  last  time,  only 
about  twelve  years  old." 

"That's  so.  Of  course  I've  changed  entirely  since 
then,  and  variety  is  what  the  crowned  heads  want, 
I  guess." 

He  passed  his  fingers  through  his  crop  of  short 
hair,  and  pressed  them  one  at  a  time  on  the  glass. 
Angelo  made  a  print  of  his  fingers  on  another  glass, 
and  Luigi  followed  with  the  third.  Wilson  marked 
the  glasses  with  names  and  date,  and  put  them 
away.  Tom  gave  one  of  his  little  laughs,  and  said: 

"I  thought  I  wouldn't  say  anything,  but  if  variety 
is  what  you  are  after,  you  have  wasted  a  piece  of 
glass.  The  hand-print  of  one  twin  is  the  same  as 
the  hand-print  of  the  fellow  twin." 

"Well,  it's  done  now,  and  I  like  to  have  them 
both,  anyway,"  said  Wilson,  returning  to  his  place. 

"But  look  here,  Dave,"  said  Tom,  "you  used  to 
tell  people's  fortunes,  too,  when  you  took  their 
finger-marks.  Dave's  just  an  all-round  genius — a 
genius  of  the  first  water,  gentlemen ;  a  great  scientist 
running  to  seed  here  in  this  village,  a  prophet  with 
the  kind  of  honor  that  prophets  generally  get  at 
home — for  here  they  don't  give  shucks  for  his 
scientifics,  and  they  call  his  skull  a  notion  factory 
— hey,  Dave,  ain't  it  so?  But  never  mind;  he'll 
86 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

make  his  mark  some  day — finger-mark,  you  know, 
he-he!  But  really,  you  want  to  let  him  take  a  shy 
at  your  palms  once;  it's  worth  twice  the  price  of 
admission  or  your  money's  returned  at  the  door. 
Why,  he'll  read  your  wrinkles  as  easy  as  a  book,  and 
not  only  tell  you  fifty  or  sixty  things  that's  going 
to  happen  to  you,  but  fifty  or  sixty  thousand  that 
ain't.  Come,  Dave,  show  the  gentlemen  what  an 
inspired  Jack-at-all-science  we've  got  in  this  town, 
and  don't  know  it." 

Wilson  winced  under  this  nagging  and  not  very 
courteous  chaff,  and  the  twins  suffered  with  him  and 
for  him.  They  rightly  judged,  now,  that  the  best 
way  to  relieve  him  would  be  to  take  the  thing  in 
earnest  and  treat  it  with  respect,  ignoring  Tom's 
rather  overdone  raillery;  so  Luigi  said: 

"We  have  seen  something  of  palmistry  in  our 
wanderings,  and  know  very  well  what  astonishing 
things  it  can  do.  If  it  isn't  a  science,  and  one  of 
the  greatest  of  them,  too,  I  don't  know  what  its 
other  name  ought  to  be.  In  the  Orient — " 

Tom  looked  surprised  and  incredulous.     He  said: 

"That  juggling  a  science?  But  really,  you  ain't 
serious,  are  you?" 

"Yes,  entirely  so.  Four  years  ago  we  had  our 
hands  read  out  to  us  as  if  our  palms  had  been 
covered  with  print." 

"Well,  do  you  mean  to  say  there  was  actually 
anything  in  it?"  asked  Tom,  his  incredulity  begin- 
ning to  weaken  a  little. 

"There  was  this  much  in  it,"  said  Angelo;  "what 
was  told  us  of  our  characters  was  minutely  exact — 
87 


MARK    TWAIN 

we  could  not  have  bettered  it  ourselves.  Next,  two 
or  three  memorable  things  that  had  happened  to  us 
were  laid  bare — things  which  no  one  present  but 
ourselves  could  have  known  about." 

"Why,  it's  rank  sorcery!"  exclaimed  Tom,  who 
was  now  becoming  very  much  interested.  "And 
how  did  they  make  out  with  what  was  going  to 
happen  to  you  in  the  future?" 

"On  the  whole,  quite  fairly,"  said  Luigi.  "Two 
or  three  of  the  most  striking  things  foretold  have 
happened  since;  much  the  most  striking  one  of  all 
happened  within  that  same  year.  Some  of  the 
minor  prophecies  have  come  true ;  some  of  the  minor 
•and  some  of  the  major  ones  have  not  been  fulfilled 
yet,  and  of  course  may  never  be:  still,  I  should 
be  more  surprised  if  they  failed  to  arrive  than  if 
they  didn't." 

Tom  was  entirely  sobered,  and  profoundly  im- 
pressed. He  said,  apologetically: 

"Dave,  I  wasn't  meaning  to  belittle  that  science; 
I  was  only  chaffing — chattering,  I  reckon  I'd  better 
say.  I  wish  you  would  look  at  their  palms.  Come, 
won't  you?" 

"Why,  certainly,  if  you  want  me  to;  but  you 
know  I've  had  no  chance  to  become  an  expert,  and 
don't  claim  to  be  one.  When  a  past  event  is  some- 
what prominently  recorded  in  the  palm  I  can  gen- 
erally detect  that,  but  minor  ones  often  escape  me 
— not  always,  of  course,  but  often — but  I  haven't 
much  confidence  in  myself  when  it  comes  to  reading 
the  future.  I  am  talking  as  if  palmistry  was  a  daily 
study  with  me,  but  that  is  not  so.  I  haven't  exam- 
88 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

ined  half  a  dozen  hands  in  the  last  half-dozen  years; 
you  see,  the  people  got  to  joking  about  it,  and  I 
stopped  to  let  the  talk  die  down.  I'll  tell  you  what 
we'll  do,  Count  Luigi :  I'll  make  a  try  at  your  past,  and 
if  I  have  any  success  there — no,  on  the  whole,  I'll  let 
the  future  alone;  that's  really  the  affair  of  an  expert." 

He  took  Luigi's  hand.     Tom  said: 

"Wait — don't  look  yet,  Dave!  Count  Luigi, 
here's  paper  and  pencil.  Set  down  that  thing  that 
you  said  was  the  most  striking  one  that  was  foretold 
to  you,  and  happened  less  than  a  year  afterward,  and 
give  it  to  me  so  I  can  see  if  Dave  finds  it  in  your 
hand." 

Luigi  wrote  a  line  privately,  and  folded  up  the 
piece  of  paper,  and  handed  it  to  Tom,  saying: 

"111  tell  you  when  to  look  at  it,  if  he  finds  it." 

Wilson  began  to  study  Luigi's  palm,  tracing  life 
lines,  heart  lines,  head  lines,  and  so  on,  and  noting 
carefully  their  relations  with  the  cobweb  of  finer  and 
more  delicate  marks  and  lines  that  enmeshed  them 
on  all  sides;  he  felt  of  the  fleshy  cushion  at  the  base 
of  the  thumb,  and  noted  its  shape;  he  felt  of  the 
fleshy  side  of  the  hand  between  the  wrist  and  the 
base  of  the  little  finger,  and  noted  its  shape  also ;  he 
painstakingly  examined  the  fingers,  observing  their 
form,  proportions,  and  natural  manner  of  disposing 
themselves  when  in  repose.  All  this  process  was 
watched  by  the  three  spectators  with  absorbing 
interest,  their  heads  bent  together  over  Luigi's  palm, 
and  nobody  disturbing  the  stillness  with  a  word. 
Wilson  now  entered  upon  a  close  survey  of  the  palm 
again,  and  his  revelations  began. 
7  89 


MARK     TWAIN 

He  mapped  out  Luigi's  character  and  disposi- 
tion, his  tastes,  aversions,  proclivities,  ambitions, 
and  eccentricities  in  a  way  which  sometimes  made 
Luigi  wince  and  the  others  laugh,  but  both  twins 
declared  that  the  chart  was  artistically  drawn  and 
was  correct. 

Next,  Wilson  took  up  Luigi's  history.  He  pro- 
ceeded cautiously  and  with  hesitation,  now,  moving 
his  finger  slowly  along  the  great  lines  of  the  palm, 
and  now  and  then  halting  it  at  a  "star"  or  some 
such  landmark,  and  examining  that  neighborhood 
minutely.  He  proclaimed  one  or  two  past  events, 
Luigi  confirmed  his  correctness,  and  the  search  went 
on.  Presently  Wilson  glanced  up  suddenly  with  a 
surprised  expression — 

"Here  is  record  of  an  incident  which  you  would 
perhaps  not  wish  me  to — 

"Bring  it  out,"  said  Luigi,  good-naturedly;  "I 
promise  you  it  sha'n't  embarrass  me." 

But  Wilson  still  hesitated,  and  did  not  seem  quite 
to  know  what  to  do.  Then  he  said : 

"I  think  it  is  too  delicate  a  matter  to — to — I 
believe  I  would  rather  write  it  or  whisper  it  to  you, 
and  let  you  decide  for  yourself  whether  you  want 
it  talked  out  or  not." 

"That  will  answer,"  said  Luigi;  "write  it." 

Wilson  wrote  something  on  a  slip  of  paper  and  hand- 
ed it  to  Luigi,  who  read  it  to  himself  and  said  to  Tom : 

"Unfold  your  slip  and  read  it,  Mr.  Driscoll." 

Tom  read : 

" It  was  prophesied  that  I  would  kill  a  man.    It 
came  true  before  the  year  was  out." 
go 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

Tom  added,  "Great  Scott!" 

Luigi  handed  Wilson's  paper  to  Tom,  and  said: 

"Now  read  this  one." 

Tom  read : 

"You  have  killed  some  one,  biit  whether  man, 
woman,  or  child,  I  do  not  make  out" 

"Caesar's  ghost!"  commented  Tom,  with  astonish- 
ment. "It  beats  anything  that  was  ever  heard  of! 
Why,  a  man's  own  hand  is  his  deadliest  enemy! 
Just  think  of  that — a  man's  own  hand  keeps  a 
record  of  the  deepest  and  fatalest  secrets  of  his  life, 
and  is  treacherously  ready  to  expose  him  to  any 
black-magic  stranger  that  comes  along.  But  what 
do  you  let  a  person  look  at  your  hand  for,  with 
that  awful  thing  printed  in  it?" 

"Oh,"  said  Luigi,  reposefully,  "I  don't  mind  it. 
I  killed  the  man  for  good  reasons,  and  I  don't  re- 
gret it." 

"What  were  the  reasons?" 

"Well,  he  needed  killing." 

"I'll  tell  you  why  he  did  it,  since  he  won't  say 
himself,"  said  Angelo,  warmly.  "He  did  it  to  save 
my  life,  that's  what  he  did  it  for.  So  it  was  a  noble 
act,  and  not  a  thing  to  be  hid  in  the  dark." 

"So  it  was,  so  it  was,"  said  Wilson;  "to  do  such 
a  thing  to  save  a  brother's  life  is  a  great  and  fine 
action." 

"Now  come,"  said  Luigi,  "it  is  very  pleasant  to 
hear  you  say  these  things,  but  for  unselfishness,  or 
heroism,  or  magnanimity,  the  circumstances  won't 
stand  scrutiny.  You  overlook  one  detail;  suppose 
I  hadn't  saved  Angelo's  life,  what  would  have  be- 


MARK    TWAIN 

come  of  mine?  If  I  had  let  the  man  kill  him, 
wouldn't  he  have  killed  me,  too?  I  saved  my  own 
life,  you  see." 

"Yes;  that  is  your  way  of  talking,"  said  Angelo, 
"but  I  know  you — I  don't  believe  you  thought  of 
yourself  at  all.  I  keep  that  weapon  yet  that  Luigi 
killed  the  man  with,  and  I'll  show  it  to  you  some- 
time. That  incident  makes  it  interesting,  and  it  had 
a  history  before  it  came  into  Luigi 's  hands  which 
adds  to  its  interest.  It  was  given  to  Luigi  by  a 
great  Indian  prince,  the  Gaikowar  of  Baroda,  and  it 
had  been  in  his  family  two  or  three  centuries.  It 
killed  a  good  many  disagreeable  people  who  troubled 
that  hearthstone  at  one  time  or  another.  It  isn't 
much  to  look  at,  except  that  it  isn't  shaped  like 
other  knives,  or  dirks,  or  whatever  it  may  be  called 
— here,  I'll  draw  it  for  you."  He  took  a  sheet  of 
paper  and  made  a  rapid  sketch.  "There  it  is — a 
broad  and  murderous  blade,  with  edges  like  a  razor 
for  sharpness.  The  devices  engraved  on  it  are  the 
ciphers  or  names  of  its  long  line  of  possessors — I 
had  Luigi's  name  added  in  Roman  letters  myself  with 
our  coat  of  arms,  as  you  see.  You  notice  what  a 
curious  handle  the  thing  has.  It  is  solid  ivory, 
polished  like  a  mirror,  and  is  four  or  five  inches 
long — round,  and  as  thick  as  a  large  man's  wrist, 
with  the  end  squared  off  flat,  for  your  thumb  to  rest 
on;  for  you  grasp  it,  with  your  thumb  resting  on  the 
blunt  end — so — and  lift  it  aloft  and  strike  down- 
ward. The  Gaikowar  showed  us  how  the  thing  was 
done  when  he  gave  it  to  Luigi,  and  before  that  night 
was  ended  Luigi  had  used  the  knife,  and  the  Gaikowar 
92 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

was  a  man  short  by  reason  of  it.  The  sheath  is 
magnificently  ornamented  with  gems  of  great  value. 
You  will  find  the  sheath  more  worth  looking  at  than 
the  knife  itself,  of  course." 

Tom  said  to  himself: 

"It's  lucky  I  came  here.  I  would  have  sold  that 
knife  for  a  song;  I  supposed  the  jewels  were  glass." 

"But  go  on;  don't  stop,"  said  Wilson.  "Our 
curiosity  is  up  now,  to  hear  about  the  homicide. 
Tell  us  about  that." 

"Well,  briefly,  the  knife  was  to  blame  for  that,  all 
around.  A  native  servant  slipped  into  our  room  in 
the  palace  in  the  night,  to  kill  us  and  steal  the  knife 
on  account  of  the  fortune  incrusted  on  its  sheath, 
without  a  doubt.  Luigi  had  it  under  his  pillow;  we 
were  in  bed  together.  There  was  a  dim  night  light 
burning.  I  was  asleep,  but  Luigi  was  awake,  and  he 
thought  he  detected  a  vague  form  nearing  the  bed. 
He  slipped  the  knife  out  of  the  sheath  and  was 
ready,  and  unembarrassed  by  hampering  bedclothes, 
for  the  weather  was  hot  and  we  hadn't  any.  Sud- 
denly that  native  rose  at  the  bedside,  and  bent  over 
me  with  his  right  hand  lifted  and  a  dirk  in  it  aimed 
at  my  throat;  but  Luigi  grabbed  his  wrist,  pulled 
him  downward,  and  drove  his  own  knife  into  the 
man's  neck.  That  is  the  whole  story." 

Wilson  and  Tom  drew  deep  breaths,  and  after 
some  general  chat  about  the  tragedy,  Pudd'nhead 
said,  taking  Tom's  hand : 

"Now,  Tom,  I've  never  had  a  look  at  your  palms, 
as  it  happens ;  perhaps  you've  got  some  little  ques- 
tionable privacies  that  need — hel-lo!" 
93 


MARK    TWAIN 

Tom  had  snatched  away  his  hand,  and  was  look- 
ing a  good  deal  confused. 

"Why,  he's  blushing!"  said  Luigi. 

Tom  darted  an  ugly  look  at  him,  and  said,  sharply: 

"Well,  if  I  am,  it  ain't  because  I'm  a  murderer!" 
Luigi's  dark  face  flushed,  but  before  he  could  speak 
or  move,  Tom  added  with  anxious  haste:  "Oh,  I 
beg  a  thousand  pardons.  I  didn't  mean  that;  it 
was  out  before  I  thought,  and  I'm  very,  very  sorry 
— you  must  forgive  me!" 

Wilson  came  to  the  rescue,  and  smoothed  things 
down  as  well  as  he  could;  and  in  fact  was  entirely 
successful  as  far  as  the  twins  were  concerned,  for 
they  felt  sorrier  for  the  affront  put  upon  him  by  his 
guest's  outburst  of  ill  manners  than  for  the  insult 
offered  to  Luigi.  But  the  success  was  not  so  pro- 
nounced with  the  offender.  Tom  tried  to  seem  at 
his  ease,  and  he  went  through  the  motions  fairly 
well,  but  at  bottom  he  felt  resentful  toward  all  the 
three  witnesses  of  his  exhibition;  in  fact,  he  felt  so 
annoyed  at  them  for  having  witnessed  it  and  noticed 
it  that  he  almost  forgot  to  feel  annoyed  at  himself 
for  placing  it  before  them.  However,  something 
presently  happened  which  made  him  almost  comfort- 
able, and  brought  him  nearly  back  to  a  state  of 
charity  and  friendliness.  This  was  a  little  spat  be- 
tween the  twins;  not  much  of  a  spat,  but  still  a  spat; 
and  before  they  got  far  with  it  they  were  in  a  de- 
cided condition  of  irritation  with  each  other.  Tom 
was  charmed;  so  pleased,  indeed,  that  he  cautiously 
did  what  he  could  to  increase  the  irritation  while 
pretending  to  be  actuated  by  more  respectable 
94 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

motives.  By  his  help  the  fire  got  warmed  up  to  the 
blazing-point,  and  he  might  have  had  the  happiness 
of  seeing  the  flames  show  up,  in  another  moment, 
but  for  the  interruption  of  a  knock  on  the  door — 
an  interruption  which  fretted  him  as  much  as  it 
gratified  "Wilson.  Wilson  opened  the  door.  The 
visitor  was  a  good-natured,  ignorant,  energetic,  mid- 
dle-aged Irishman  named  John  Buckstone,  who  was 
a  great  politician  in  a  small  way,  and  always  took  a 
large  share  in  public  matters  of  every  sort.  One  of 
the  town's  chief  excitements,  just  now,  was  over 
the  matter  of  rum.  There  was  a  strong  rum  party 
and  a  strong  anti-rum  party.  Buckstone  was  train- 
ing with  the  rum  party,  and  he  had  been  sent  to  hunt 
up  the  twins  and  invite  them  to  attend  a  mass-meet- 
ing of  that  faction.  He  delivered  his  errand,  and 
said  the  clans  were  already  gathering  in  the  big  hall 
over  the  market-house.  Luigi  accepted  the  invita- 
tion cordially,  Angelo  less  cordially,  since  he  dis- 
liked crowds,  and  did  not  drink  the  powerful  intox- 
icants of  America.  In  fact,  he  was  even  a  teetotaler 
sometimes — when  it  was  judicious  to  be  one. 

The  twins  left  with  Buckstone,  and  Tom  Driscoll 
joined  company  with  them  uninvited. 

In  the  distance  one  could  see  a  long  wavering  line 
of  torches  drifting  down  the  main  street,  and  could 
hear  the  throbbing  of  the  bass  drum,  the  clash  of 
cymbals,  the  squeaking  of  a  fife  or  two,  and  the 
faint  roar  of  remote  hurrahs.  The  tail  end  of  this 
procession  was  climbing  the  market-house  stairs  when 
the  twins  arrived  in  its  neighborhood;  when  they 
reached  the  hall  it  was  full  of  people,  torches,  smoke, 
95 


MARK    TWAIN 

noise,  and  enthusiasm.  They  were  conducted  to  the 
platform  by  Buckstone — Tom  Driscoll  still  following 
— and  were  delivered  to  the  chairman  in  the  midst 
of  a  prodigious  explosion  of  welcome.  When  the 
noise  had  moderated  a  little,  the  chair  proposed  that 
"our  illustrious  guests  be  at  once  elected,  by  com- 
plimentary acclamation,  to  membership  in  our  ever- 
glorious  organization,  the  paradise  of  the  free  and 
the  perdition  of  the  slave." 

This  eloquent  discharge  opened  the  flood-gates  of 
enthusiasm  again,  and  the  election  was  carried  with 
thundering  unanimity.  Then  arose  a  storm  of  cries : 

"Wet  them  down!  Wet  them  down!  Give  them 
a  drink!" 

Glasses  of  whisky  were  handed  to  the  twins. 
Luigi  waved  his  aloft,  then  brought  it  to  his  lips; 
but  Angelo  set  his  down.  There  was  another  storm 
of  cries : 

' '  What's  the  matter  with  the  other  one  ?"  "  What 
is  the  blond  one  going  back  on  us  for?"  "Explain! 
Explain!" 

The  chairman  inquired,  and  then  reported: 

"We  have  made  an  unfortunate  mistake,  gentle- 
men. I  find  that  the  Count  Angelo  Capello  is 
opposed  to  our  creed — is  a  teetotaler,  in  fact,  and 
was  not  intending  to  apply  for  membership  with  us. 
He  desires  that  we  reconsider  the  vote  by  which  he 
was  elected.  What  is  the  pleasure  of  the  house?" 

There  was  a  general  burst  of  laughter,  plentifully 
accented  with  whistlings  and  cat-calls,  but  the  en- 
ergetic use  of  the  gavel  presently  restored  something 
like  order.  Then  a  man  spoke  from  the  crowd,  and 
96 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

said  that  while  he  was  very  sorry  that  the  mistake 
had  been  made,  it  would  not  be  possible  to  rectify 
it  at  the  present  meeting.  According  to  the  by-laws 
it  must  go  over  to  the  next  regular  meeting  for 
action.  He  would  not  offer  a  motion,  as  none  was 
required.  He  desired  to  apologize  to  the  gentleman 
in  the  name  of  the  house,  and  begged  to  assure  him 
that  as  far  as  it  might  lie  in  the  power  of  the  Sons 
of  Liberty,  his  temporary  membership  in  the  order 
would  be  made  pleasant  to  him. 

This  speech  was  received  with  great  applause, 
mixed  with  cries  of: 

"That's  the  talk!"  "He's  a  good  fellow,  any- 
way, if  he  is  a  teetotaler!"  "Drink  his  health!" 
"Give  him  a  rouser,  and  no  heeltaps!" 

Glasses  were  handed  around,  and  everybody  on 
the  platform  drank  Angelo's  health,  while  the  house 
bellowed  forth  in  song : 

For  he's  a  jolly  good  fel-low, 
For  he's  a  jolly  good  fel-low, 
For  he's  a  jolly  good  fe-el-low, — 
Which  nobody  can  deny. 

Tom  Driscoll  drank.  It  was  his  second  glass,  for 
he  had  drunk  Angelo's  the  moment  that  Angelo  had 
set  it  down.  The  two  drinks  made  him  very  merry 
— almost  idiotically  so — and  he  began  to  take  a 
most  lively  and  prominent  part  in  the  proceedings, 
particularly  in  the  music  and  cat-calls  and  side 
remarks. 

The  chairman  was  still  standing  at  the  front,  the 
twins  at  his  side.  The  extraordinarily  close  resem- 
blance of  the  brothers  to  each  other  suggested  a 
97 


MARK    TWAIN 

witticism  to  Tom  Driscoll,  and  just  as  the  chairman 
began  a  speech  he  skipped  forward  and  said  with  an 
air  of  tipsy  confidence  to  the  audience : 

"Boys,  I  move  that  he  keeps  still  and  lets  this 
human  philopena  snip  you  out  a  speech." 

The  descriptive  aptness  of  the  phrase  caught  the 
house,  and  a  mighty  burst  of  laughter  followed. 

Luigi's  southern  blood  leaped  to  the  boiling-point 
in  a  moment  under  the  sharp  humiliation  of  this 
insult  delivered  in  the  presence  of  four  hundred 
strangers.  It  was  not  in  the  young  man's  nature  to 
let  the  matter  pass,  or  to  delay  the  squaring  of  the 
account.  He  took  a  couple  of  strides  and  halted 
behind  the  unsuspecting  joker.  Then  he  drew  back 
and  delivered  a  kick  of  such  titanic  vigor  that  it 
lifted  Tom  clear  over  the  footlights  and  landed  him  on 
the  heads  of  the  front  row  of  the  Sons  of  Liberty. 

Even  a  sober  person  does  not  like  to  have  a  human 
being  emptied  on  him  when  he  is  not  doing  any 
harm;  a  person  who  is  not  sober  cannot  endure 
such  an  attention  at  all.  The  nest  of  Sons  of 
Liberty  that  Driscoll  landed  in  had  not  a  sober  bird 
in  it;  in  fact,  there  was  probably  not  an  entirely 
sober  one  in  the  auditorium.  Driscoll  was  promptly 
and  indignantly  flung  onto  the  heads  of  Sons  in  the 
next  row,  and  these  Sons  passed  him  on  toward  the 
rear,  and  then  immediately  began  to  pummel  the 
front-row  Sons  who  had  passed  him  to  them.  This 
course  was  strictly  followed  by  bench  after  bench  as 
Driscoll  traveled  in  his  tumultuous  and  airy  flight 
toward  the  door;  so  he  left  behind  him  an  ever- 
lengthening  wake  of  raging  and  plunging  and  fight- 
98 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

ing  and  swearing  humanity.  Down  went  group  after 
group  of  torches,  and  presently  above  the  deafening 
clatter  of  the  gavel,  roar  of  angry  voices,  and  crash 
of  succumbing  benches,  rose  the  paralyzing  cry  of 
"FIRE!" 

The  fighting  ceased  instantly;  the  cursing  ceased; 
for  one  distinctly  defined  moment  there  was  a  dead 
hush,  a  motionless  calm,  where  the  tempest  had 
been;  then  with  one  impulse  the  multitude  awoke  to 
life  and  energy  again,  and  went  surging  and  strug- 
gling and  swaying,  this  way  and  that,  its  outer  edges 
melting-  away  through  windows  and  doors  and 
gradually  lessening  the  pressure  and  relieving  the 
mass. 

The  fire-boys  were  never  on  hand  so  suddenly  be- 
fore ;  for  there  was  no  distance  to  go,  this  time,  their 
quarters  being  in  the  rear  end  of  the  market -house. 
There  was  an  engine  company  and  a  hook-and- 
ladder  company.  Half  of  each  was  composed  of 
rummies  and  the  other  half  of  anti-rummies,  after 
the  moral  and  political  share-and-share-alike  fashion 
of  the  frontier  town  of  the  period.  Enough  anti- 
rummies  were  loafing  in  quarters  to  man  the  engine 
and  the  ladders.  In  two  minutes  they  had  their  red 
shirts  and  helmets  on — they  never  stirred  officially 
in  unofficial  costume — and  as  the  mass  -  meeting 
overhead  smashed  through  the  long  row  of  windows 
and  poured  out  upon  the  roof  of  the  arcade,  the 
deliverers  were  ready  for  them  with  a  powerful 
stream  of  water  which  washed  some  of  them  off  the 
roof  and  nearly  drowned  the  rest.  But  water  was 
preferable  to  fire,  and  still  the  stampede  from  the 
99 


MARK    TWAIN 

windows  continued,  and  still  the  pitiless  drenching 
assailed  it  until  the  building  was  empty;  then  the 
fire-boys  mounted  to  the  hall  and  flooded  it  with 
water  enough  to  annihilate  forty  times  as  much  fire 
as  there  was  there;  for  a  village  fire  company  does 
not  often  get  a  chance  to  show  off,  and  so  when  it 
does  get  a  chance  it  makes  the  most  of  it.  Such 
citizens  of  that  village  as  were  of  a  thoughtful  and 
judicious  temperament  did  not  insure  against  fire; 
they  insured  against  the  fire  company. 


CHAPTER  XII 

Courage  is  resistance  to  fear,  mastery  of  fear — not  absence  of 
fear.  Except  a  creature  be  part  coward  it  is  not  a  compliment 
to  say  it  is  brave;  it  is  merely  a  loose  misapplication  of  the 
word.  Consider  the  flea! — incomparably  the  bravest  of  all  the 
creatures  of  God,  if  ignorance  of  fear  were  courage.  Whether 
you  are  asleep  or  awake  he  will  attack  you,  caring  nothing  for 
the  fact  that  in  bulk  and  strength  you  are  to  him  as  are  the 
massed  armies  of  the  earth  to  a  sucking  child;  he  lives  both 
day  and  night  and  all  days  and  nights  in  the  very  lap  of  peril 
and  the  immediate  presence  of  death,  and  yet  is  no  more  afraid 
than  is  the  man  who  walks  the  streets  of  a  city  that  was  threat- 
ened by  an  earthquake  ten  centuries  before.  When  we  speak 
of  Clive,  Nelson,  and  Putnam  as  men  who  "didn't  know  what 
fear  was,"  we  ought  always  to  add  the  flea — and  put  him  at 
the  head  of  the  procession. — Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

JUDGE  DRISCOLL  was  in  bed  and  asleep  by  ten 
o'clock  on  Friday  night,  and  he  was  up  and 
gone  a-fishing  before  daylight  in  the  morning  with 
his  friend  Pembroke  Howard.  These  two  had  been 
boys  together  in  Virginia  when  that  state  still  ranked 
as  the  chief  and  most  imposing  member  of  the  Union, 
and  they  still  coupled  the  proud  and  affectionate 
adjective  "old"  with  her  name  when  they  spoke  of 
her.  In  Missouri  a  recognized  superiority  attached 
to  any  person  who  hailed  from  Old  Virginia;  and 
this  superiority  was  exalted  to  supremacy  when  a 
person  of  such  nativity  could  also  prove  descent 
from  the  First  Families  of  that  great  commonwealth. 


MARK    TWAIN 

The  Howards  and  Driscolls  were  of  this  aristocracy. 
In  their  eyes  it  was  a  nobility.  It  had  its  unwritten 
laws,  and  they  were  as  clearly  defined  and  as  strict 
as  any  that  could  be  found  among  the  printed 
statutes  of  the  land.  The  F.  F.  V.  was  born  a 
gentleman;  his  highest  duty  in  life  was  to  watch  over 
that  great  inheritance  and  keep  it  unsmirched.  He 
must  keep  his  honor  spotless.  Those  laws  were  his 
chart ;  his  course  was  marked  out  on  it ;  if  he  swerved 
from  it  by  so  much  as  half  a  point  of  the  compass  it 
meant  shipwreck  to  his  honor;  that  is  to  say,  degrada- 
tion from  his  rank  as  a  gentleman.  These  laws  re- 
quired certain  things  of  him  which  his  religion  might 
forbid:  then  his  religion  must  yield — the  laws  could 
not  be  relaxed  to  accommodate  religions  or  anything 
else.  Honor  stood  first;  and  the  laws  defined  what 
it  was  and  wherein  it  differed  in  certain  details  from 
honor  as  defined  by  church  creeds  and  by  the  social 
laws  and  customs  of  some  of  the  minor  divisions  of 
the  globe  that  had  got  crowded  out  when  the  sacred 
boundaries  of  Virginia  were  staked  out. 
.  If  Judge  Driscoll  was  the  recognized  first  citizen 
of  Dawson's  Landing,  Pembroke  Howard  was  easily 
its  recognized  second  citizen.  He  was  called  "the 
great  lawyer" — an  earned  title.  He  and  Driscoll 
were  of  the  same  age — a  year  or  two  past  sixty. 
-  Although  Driscoll  was  a  free-thinker  and  Howard 
a  strong  and  determined  Presbyterian,  their  warm 
intimacy  suffered  no  impairment  in  consequence. 
They  were  men  whose  opinions  were  their  own 
property  and  not  subject  to  revision  and  amendment, 
suggestion  or  criticism,  by  anybody,  even  their  friends. 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

The  day's  fishing  finished,  they  came  floating 
down-stream  in  their  skiff,  talking  national  politics 
and  other  high  matters,  and  presently  met  a  skiff 
coming  up  from  town,  with  a  man  in  it  who  said : 

"I  reckon  you  know  one  of  the  new  twins  gave 
your  nephew  a  kicking  last  night,  Judge?" 

"Did  what?" 

"Gave  him  a  kicking." 

The  old  Judge's  lips  paled,  and  his  eyes  began  to 
flame.  He  choked  with  anger  for  a  moment,  then 
he  got  out  what  he  was  trying  to  say : 

"Well — well — go  on!   give  me  the  details." 

The  man  did  it.  At  the  finish  the  Judge  was  silent 
a  minute,  turning  over  in  his  mind  the  shameful 
picture  of  Tom's  flight  over  the  footlights;  then  he 
said,  as  if  musing  aloud — "H'm — I  don't  under- 
stand it.  I  was  asleep  at  home.  He  didn't  wake 
me.  Thought  he  was  competent  to  manage  his 
affair  without  my  help,  I  reckon."  His  face  lit  up 
with  pride  and  pleasure  at  that  thought,  and  he  said 
with  a  cheery  complacency,  "I  like  that — it's  the 
true  old  blood — hey,  Pembroke?" 

Howard  smiled  an  iron  smile,  and  nodded  his  head 
approvingly.  Then  the  news-bringer  spoke  again: 

"But  Tom  beat  the  twin  on  the  trial." 

The  Judge  looked  at  the  man  wonderingly,  and 
said: 

' '  The  trial  ?    What  trial  ?" 

"Why,  Tom  had  him  up  before  Judge  Robinson 
for  assault  and  battery." 

The  old  man  shrank  suddenly  together  like  one 
who  had  received  a  death-stroke.  Howard  sprang 
103 


MARK    TWAIN 

for  him  as  he  sank  forward  in  a  swoon,  and  took 
him  in  his  arms,  and  bedded  him  on  his  back  in  the 
boat.  He  sprinkled  water  in  his  face,  and  said  to 
the  startled  visitor: 

"Go,  now — don't  let  him  come  to  and  find  you 
here.  You  see  what  an  effect  your  heedless  speech 
has  had;  you  ought  to  have  been  more  considerate 
than  to  blurt  out  such  a  cruel  piece  of  slander  as 
that." 

"I'm  right  down  sorry  I  did  it  now,  Mr.  Howard, 
and  I  wouldn't  have  done  it  if  I  had  thought :  but  it 
ain't  slander;  it's  perfectly  true,  just  as  I  told  him." 

He  rowed  away.  Presently  the  old  Judge  came 
out  of  his  faint  and  looked  up  piteously  into  the 
sympathetic  face  that  was  bent  over  him. 

"Say  it  ain't  true,  Pembroke;  tell  me  it  ain't 
true!"  he  said  in  a  weak  voice. 

There  was  nothing  weak  in  the  deep  organ-tones 
that  responded: 

"You  know  it's  a  lie  as  well  as  I  do,  old  friend. 
He  is  of  the  best  blood  of  the  Old  Dominion." 

"God  bless  you  for  saying  it!"  said  the  old  gentle- 
man, fervently.  "Ah,  Pembroke,  it  was  such  a  blow!" 

Howard  stayed  by  his  friend,  and  saw  him  home, 
and  entered  the  house  with  him.  It  was  dark,  and 
past  supper-time,  but  the  Judge  was  not  thinking  of 
supper;  he  was  eager  to  hear  the  slander  refuted 
from  headquarters,  and  as  eager  to  have  Howard 
hear  it,  too.  Tom  was  sent  for,  and  he  came  im- 
mediately. He  was  bruised  and  lame,  and  was  not 
a  happy -looking  object.  His  uncle  made  him  sit 
down,  and  said: 

104 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

"We  have  been  hearing  about  your  adventure, 
Tom,  with  a  handsome  lie  added  to  it  for  embellish- 
ment. Now  pulverize  that  lie  to  dust!  What 
measures  have  you  taken?  How  does  the  thing 
stand?" 

Tom  answered  guilelessly:  "It  don't  stand  at  all; 
it's  all  over.  I  had  him  up  in  court  and  beat  him. 
Pudd'nhead  Wilson  defended  him — first  case  he 
ever  had,  and  lost  it.  The  judge  fined  the  miserable 
hound  five  dollars  for  the  assault." 

Howard  and  the  Judge  sprang  to  their  feet  with 
the  opening  sentence — why,  neither  knew;  then 
they  stood  gazing  vacantly  at  each  other.  Howard 
stood  a  moment,  then  sat  mournfully  down  without 
saying  anything.  The  Judge's  wrath  began  to 
kindle,  and  he  burst  out : 

"You  cur!  You  scum!  You  vermin!  Do  you 
mean  to  tell  me  that  blood  of  my  race  has  suffered  a 
blow  and  crawled  to  a  court  of  law  about  it  ?  Answer 
me!" 

Tom's  head  dropped,  and  he  answered  with  an 
eloquent  silence.  His  uncle  stared  at  him  with  a 
mixed  expression  of  amazement  and  shame  and  in- 
credulity that  was  sorrowful  to  see.  At  last  he  said : 

"Which  of  the  twins  was  it?" 

"Count  Luigi." 

"You  have  challenged  him?" 

"N — no,"  hesitated  Tom,  turning  pale. 

"You  will  challenge  him  to-night.  Howard  will 
carry  it." 

Tom  began  to  turn  sick,  and  to  show  it.  He 
turned  his  hat  round  and  round  in  his  hand,  his 
8  105 


MARK    TWAIN 

uncle  glowering  blacker  and  blacker  upon  him  as  the 
heavy  seconds  drifted  by;  then  at  last  he  began  to 
stammer,  and  said  piteously: 

"Oh,  please  don't  ask  me  to  do  it,  uncle!  He  is 
a  murderous  devil — I  never  could — I — I'm  afraid 
of  him!" 

Old  Driscoll's  mouth  opened  and  closed  three 
times  before  he  could  get  it  to  perform  its  office; 
then  he  stormed  out: 

"A  coward  in  my  family!  A  Driscoll  a  coward! 
Oh,  what  have  I  done  to  deserve  this  infamy!" 
He  tottered  to  his  secretary  in  the  corner  repeating 
that  lament  again  and  again  in  heartbreaking  tones, 
and  got  out  of  a  drawer  a  paper,  which  he  slowly 
tore  to  bits,  scattering  the  bits  absently  in  his  track 
as  he  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  still  grieving 
and  lamenting.  At  last  he  said : 

"There  it  is,  shreds  and  fragments  once  more — 
my  will.  Once  more  you  have  forced  me  to  disin- 
herit you,  you  base  son  of  a  most  noble  father! 
Leave  my  sight!  Go — before  I  spit  on  you!" 

The  young  man  did  not  tarry.  Then  the  Judge 
turned  to  Howard : 

"You  will  be  my  second,  old  friend?" 

"Of  course." 

"There  is  pen  and  paper.  Draft  the  cartel,  and 
lose  no  time." 

"The  Count  shall  have  it  in  his  hands  in  fifteen 
minutes,"  said  Howard. 

Tom  was  very  heavy-hearted.  His  appetite  was 
gone  with  his  property  and  his  self-respect.  He 
went  out  the  back  way  and  wandered  down  the 
106 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

obscure  lane  grieving,  and  wondering  if  any  course 
of  future  conduct,  however  discreet  and  carefully 
perfected  and  watched  over,  could  win  back  his 
uncle's  favor  and  persuade  him  to  reconstruct  once 
more  that  generous  will  which  had  just  gone  to  ruin 
before  his  eyes.  He  finally  concluded  that  it  could. 
He  said  to  himself  that  he  had  accomplished  this 
sort  of  triumph  once  already,  and  that  what  had  been 
done  once  could  be  done  again.  He  would  set  about 
it.  He  would  bend  every  energy  to  the  task,  and  he 
would  score  that  triumph  once  more,  cost  what  it 
might  to  his  convenience,  limit  as  it  might  his  frivo- 
lous and  liberty-loving  life. 

"To  begin,"  he  said  to  himself,  "I'll  square  up 
with  the  proceeds  of  my  raid,  and  then  gambling  has 
got  to  be  stopped — and  stopped  short  off.  It's  the 
worst  vice  I've  got — from  my  standpoint,  anyway, 
because  it's  the  one  he  can  most  easily  find  out, 
through  the  impatience  of  my  creditors.  He  thought 
it  expensive  to  have  to  pay  two  hundred  dollars  to 
them  for  me  once.  Expensive — that!  Why,  it  cost 
me  the  whole  of  his  fortune — but  of  course  he  never 
thought  of  that ;  some  people  can't  think  of  any  but 
their  own  side  of  a  case.  If  he  had  known  how  deep 
I  am  in,  now,  the  will  would  have  gone  to  pot  with- 
out waiting  for  a  duel  to  help.  Three  hundred 
dollars!  It's  a  pile!  But  he'll  never  hear  of  it, 
I'm  thankful  to  say.  The  minute  I've  cleared  it 
off,  I'm  safe;  and  I'll  never  touch  a  card  again. 
Anyway,  I  won't  while  he  lives,  I  make  oath  to  that. 
I'm  entering  on  my  last  reform — I  know  it — yes,  and 
I'll  win;  but  after  that,  if  I  ever  slip  again  I'm  gone." 
107 


CHAPTER  XIII 

When  I  reflect  upon  the  number  of  disagreeable  people  who  I 
know  have  gone  to  a  better  world,  I  am  moved  to  lead  a  different 
life. — Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

October.  This  is  one  of  the  peculiarly  dangerous  months  to 
speculate  in  stocks  in.  The  others  are  July,  January,  September, 
April,  November,  May,  March,  June,  December,  August,  and 
February. — Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

THUS  mournfully  communing  with  himself  Tom 
moped  along  the  lane  past  Pudd'nhead  Wilson's 
house,  and  still  on  and  on  between  fences  inclosing 
vacant  country  on  each  hand  till  he  neared  the 
haunted  house,  then  he  came  moping  back  again, 
with  many  sighs  and  heavy  with  trouble.  He  sorely 
wanted  cheerful  company.  Rowena !  His  heart  gave 
a  bound  at  the  thought,  but  the  next  thought  quieted 
it — the  detested  twins  would  be  there. 

He  was  on  the  inhabited  side  of  Wilson's  house, 
and  now  as  he  approached  it  he  noticed  that  the 
sitting-room  was  lighted.  This  would  do;  others 
made  him  feel  unwelcome  sometimes,  but  Wilson 
never  failed  in  courtesy  toward  him,  and  a  kindly 
courtesy  does  at  least  save  one's  feelings,  even  if  it 
is  not  professing  to  stand  for  a  welcome.  Wilson 
heard  footsteps  at  his  threshold,  then  the  clearing  of 
a  throat. 

108 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

"It's  that  fickle-tempered,  dissipated  young  goose 
— poor  devil,  he  finds  friends  pretty  scarce  to-day, 
likely,  after  the  disgrace  of  carrying  a  personal- 
assault  case  into  a  law-court." 

A  dejected  knock.     "Come  in!" 

Tom  entered,  and  drooped  into  a  chair,  without 
saying  anything.  Wilson  said  kindly: 

"Why,  my  boy,  you  look  desolate.  Don't  take  it 
so  hard.  Try  and  forget  you  have  been  kicked." 

"Oh,  dear,"  said  Tom,  wretchedly,  "it's  not  that, 
Pudd'nhead — it's  not  that.  It's  a  thousand  times 
worse  than  that — oh,  yes,  a  million  times  worse." 

' '  Why,  Tom,  what  do  you  mean  ?    Has  Rowena — ' ' 

"Flung  me?     No,  but  the  old  man  has." 

Wilson  said  to  himself,  "Aha!"  and  thought  of 
the  mysterious  girl  in  the  bedroom.  "The  Driscolls 
have  been  making  discoveries!"  Then  he  said 
aloud,  gravely: 

' '  Tom,  there  are  some  kinds  of  dissipation  which — 

"Oh,  shucks,  this  hasn't  got  anything  to  do  with 
dissipation.  He  wanted  me  to  challenge  that  derned 
Italian  savage,  and  I  wouldn't  do  it." 

"Yes,  of  course  he  would  do  that,"  said  Wilson 
in  a  meditative  matter-of-course  way,  "but  the  thing 
that  puzzled  me  was,  why  he  didn't  look  to  that  last 
night,  for  one  thing,  and  why  he  let  you  carry  such 
a  matter  into  a  court  of  law  at  all,  either  before  the 
duel  or  after  it.  It's  no  place  for  it.  It  was  not  like 
him.  I  couldn't  understand  it.  How  did  it  happen  ?" 

"It  happened  because  he  didn't  know  anything 
about  it.  He  was  asleep  when  I  got  home  last 
night." 

IOQ 


MARK    TWAIN 

"  And  you  didn't  wake  him?    Tom,  is  that  possible?" 

Tom  was  not  getting  much  comfort  here.  He 
fidgeted  a  moment,  then  said: 

"I  didn't  choose  to  tell  him — that's  all.  He  was 
going  a-fishing  before  dawn,  with  Pembroke  Howard, 
and  if  I  got  the  twins  into  the  common  calaboose — 
and  I  thought  sure  I  could — I  never  dreamed  of 
their  slipping  out  on  a  paltry  fine  for  such  an  out- 
rageous offense — well,  once  in  the  calaboose  they 
would  be  disgraced,  and  uncle  wouldn't  want  any 
duels  with  that  sort  of  characters,  and  wouldn't 
allow  any." 

"Tom,  I  am  ashamed  of  you!  I  don't  see  how 
you  could  treat  your  good  old  uncle  so.  I  am  a 
better  friend  of  his  than  you  are;  for  if  I  had  known 
the  circumstances  I  would  have  kept  that  case  out 
of  court  until  I  got  word  to  him  and  let  him  have 
a  gentleman's  chance." 

"You  would?"  exclaimed  Tom,  with  lively  sur- 
prise. "And  it  your  first  case!  And  you  know 
perfectly  well  there  never  would  have  been  any 
case  if  he  had  got  that  chance,  don't  you?  And 
you'd  have  finished  your  days  a  pauper  nobody, 
instead  of  being  an  actually  launched  and  recognized 
lawyer  to-day.  And  you  would  really  have  done 
that,  would  you?" 

"Certainly." 

Tom  looked  at  him  a  moment  or  two,  then  shook 
his  head  sorrowfully  and  said: 

"I  believe  you — upon  my  word  I  do.     I  don't 
know  why  I  do,  but  I  do.     Pudd'nhead  Wilson,  I 
think  you're  the  biggest  fool  I  ever  saw." 
no 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

"Thank  you." 

"Don't  mention  it." 

"Well,  he  has  been  requiring  you  to  fight  the 
Italian  and  you  have  refused.  You  degenerate 
remnant  of  an  honorable  line!  I'm  thoroughly 
ashamed  of  you,  Tom!" 

"Oh,  that's  nothing!  I  don't  care  for  anything, 
now  that  the  will's  torn  up  again." 

"Tom,  tell  me  squarely — didn't  he  find  any  fault 
with  you  for  anything  but  those  two  things — 
carrying  the  case  into  court  and  refusing  to  fight?" 

He  watched  the  young  fellow's  face  narrowly,  but 
it  was  entirely  reposeful,  and  so  also  was  the  voice 
that  answered : 

"No,  he  didn't  find  any  other  fault  with  me.  If 
he  had  had  any  to  find,  he  would  have  begun  yester- 
day, for  he  was  just  in  the  humor  for  it.  He  drove 
that  jack-pair  around  town  and  showed  them  the 
sights,  and  when  he  came  home  he  couldn't  find  his 
father's  old  silver  watch  that  don't  keep  time  and  he 
thinks  so  much  of,  and  couldn't  remember  what  he 
did  with  it  three  or  four  days  ago  when  he  saw  it 
last,  and  so  when  I  arrived  he  was  all  in  a  sweat 
about  it,  and  when  I  suggested  that  it  probably 
wasn't  lost  but  stolen,  it  put  him  in  a  regular  passion 
and  he  said  I  was  a  fool— which  convinced  me, 
without  any  trouble,  that  that  was  just  what  he  was 
afraid  had  happened,  himself,  but  did  not  want  to 
believe  it,  because  lost  things  stand  a  better  chance 
of  being  found  again  than  stolen  ones." 

"Whe-ew!"  whistled  Wilson;  "score  another  on 
the  list." 

in 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Another  what?" 

"Another  theft!" 

"Theft?" 

"Yes,  theft.  That  watch  isn't  lost,  it's  stolen. 
There's  been  another  raid  on  the. town — and  just  the 
same  old  mysterious  sort  of  thing  that  has  happened 
once  before,  as  you  remember." 

"You  don't  mean  it!" 

"It's  as  sure  as  you  are  born!  Have  you  missed 
anything  yourself?" 

"No.  That  is,  I  did  miss  a  silver  pencil-case  that 
Aunt  Mary  Pratt  gave  me  last  birthday — " 

"You'll  find  it  stolen — that's  what  you'll  find." 

"No,  I  sha'n't;  for  when  I  suggested  theft  about 
the  watch  and  got  such  a  rap,  I  went  and  examined 
my  room,  and  the  pencil-case  was  missing,  but  it 
was  only  mislaid,  and  I  found  it  again." 

"You  are  sure  you  missed  nothing  else?" 

"Well,  nothing  of  consequence.  I  missed  a  small 
plain  gold  ring  worth  two  or  three  dollars,  but  that 
will  turn  up.  I'll  look  again." 

"In  my  opinion  you'll  not  find  it.  There's  been 
a  raid,  I  tell  you.  Come  in!" 

Mr.  Justice  Robinson  entered,  followed  by  Buck- 
stone  and  the  town  constable,  Jim  Blake.  They  sat 
down,  and  after  some  wandering  and  aimless  weather 
conversation  Wilson  said : 

"By  the  way,  we've  just  added  another  to  the  list 
of  thefts,  maybe  two.  Judge  Driscoll's  old  silver 
watch  is  gone,  and  Tom  here  has  missed  a  gold  ring." 

"Well,  it  is  a  bad  business,"  said  the  Justice, 
"and  gets  worse  the  further  it  goes.  The  Hankses, 

112 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

the  Dobsons,  the  Pilligrews,  the  Ortons,  the  Grangers, 
the  Hales,  the  Fullers,  the  Holcombs,  in  fact  every- 
body that  lives  around  about  Patsy  Cooper's  has 
been  robbed  of  little  things  like  trinkets  and  tea- 
spoons and  such-like  small  valuables  that  are  easily 
carried  off.  It's  perfectly  plain  that  the  thief  took 
advantage  of  the  reception  at  Patsy  Cooper's  when 
all  the  neighbors  were  in  her  house  and  all  their 
niggers  hanging  around  her  fence  for  a  look  at  the 
show,  to  raid  the  vacant  houses  undisturbed.  Patsy 
is  miserable  about  it;  miserable  on  account  of  the 
neighbors,  and  particularly  miserable  on  account  of 
her  foreigners,  of  course;  so  miserable  on  their 
account  that  she  hasn't  any  room  to  worry  about  her 
own  little  losses." 

"It's  the  same  old  raider,"  said  Wilson.  "I 
suppose  there  isn't  any  doubt  about  that." 

"Constable  Blake  doesn't  think  so." 

"No,  you're  wrong  there,"  said  Blake;  "the 
other  times  it  was  a  man ;  there  was  plenty  of  signs 
of  that,  as  we  know,  in  the  profession,  though  we 
never  got  hands  on  him;  but  this  time  it's  a  woman." 

Wilson  thought  of  the  mysterious  girl  straight  off. 
She  was  always  in  his  mind  now.  But  she  failed 
him  again.  Blake  continued: 

"She's  a  stoop-shouldered  old  woman  with  a 
covered  basket  on  her  arm,  in  a  black  veil,  dressed 
in  mourning.  I  saw  her  going  aboard  the  ferry-boat 
yesterday.  Lives  in  Illinois,  I  reckon;  but  I  don't 
care  where  she  lives,  I'm  going  to  get  her — she  can 
make  herself  sure  of  that." 

"What  makes  you  think  she's  the  thief?" 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Well,  there  ain't  any  other,  for  one  thing;  and 
for  another,  some  of  the  nigger  draymen  that  hap- 
pened to  be  driving  along  saw  her  coming  out  of  or 
going  into  houses,  and  told  me  so — and  it  just  hap- 
pens that  they  was  robbed  houses,  every  time." 

It  was  granted  that  this  was  plenty  good  enottgh 
circumstantial  evidence.  A  pensive  silence  followed, 
which  lasted  some  moments,  then  Wilson  said: 

"There's  one  good  thing,  anyway.  She  can't 
either  pawn  or  sell  Count  Luigi's  costly  Indian 
dagger." 

"My!"  said  Tom,  "is  that  gone?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  that  was  a  haul!  But  why  can't  she  pawn 
it  or  sell  it?" 

"Because  when  the  twins  went  home  from  the 
Sons  of  Liberty  meeting  last  night,  news  of  the  raid 
was  sifting  in  from  everywhere,  and  Aunt  Patsy  was 
in  distress  to  know  if  they  had  lost  anything.  They 
found  that  the  dagger  was  gone,  and  they  notified 
the  police  and  pawnbrokers  everywhere.  It  was  a 
great  haul,  yes,  but  the  old  woman  won't  get  any- 
thing out  of  it,  because  she'll  get  caught." 

"Did  they  offer  a  reward?"  asked  Buckstone. 

"Yes;  five  hundred  dollars  for  the  knife,  and  five 
hundred  dollars  for  the  thief." 

"What  a  leather-headed  idea!"  exclaimed  the 
constable.  "The  thief  da'sn't  go  near  them,  nor 
send  anybody.  Whoever  goes  is  going  to  get  him- 
self nabbed,  for  there  ain't  any  pawnbroker  that's 
going  to  lose  the  chance  to — " 

If  anybody  had  noticed  Tom's  face  at  that  time, 
114 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

the  gray-green  color  of  it  might  have  provoked 
curiosity;  but  nobody  did.  He  said  to  himself: 
"I'm  gone!  I  never  can  square  up;  the  rest  of  the 
plunder  won't  pawn  or  sell  for  half  of  the  bill.  Oh, 
I  know  it — I'm  gone,  I'm  gone — and  this  time  it's 
for  good.  Oh,  this  is  awful — I  don't  know  what  to 
do,  nor  which  way  to  turn!" 

"Softly,  softly,"  said  Wilson  to  Blake.  "I 
planned  their  scheme  for  them  at  midnight  last  night, 
and  it  was  all  finished  up  shipshape  by  two  this 
morning.  They'll  get  their  dagger  back,  and  then 
I'll  explain  to  you  how  the  thing  was  done." 

There  were  strong  signs  of  a  general  curiosity,  and 
Buckstone  said : 

"Well,  you  have  whetted  us  up  pretty  sharp, 
Wilson,  and  I'm  free  to  say  that  if  you  don't  mind 
telling  us  in  confidence — " 

"Oh,  I'd  as  soon  tell  as  not,  Buckstone,  but  as 
long  as  the  twins  and  I  agreed  to  say  nothing  about 
it,  we  must  let  it  stand  so.  But  you  can  take  my 
word  for  it  you  won't  be  kept  waiting  three  days. 
Somebody  will  apply  for  that  reward  pretty  prompt- 
ly, and  I'll  show  you  the  thief  and  the  dagger  both 
very  soon  afterward." 

The  constable  was  disappointed,  and  also  per- 
plexed. He  said : 

"It  may  all  be — yes,  and  I  hope  it  will,  but  I'm 
blamed  if  I  can  see  my  way  through  it.  It's  too 
many  for  yours  truly." 

The  subject  seemed  about  talked  out.  Nobody 
seemed  to  have  anything  further  to  offer.  After  a 
silence  the  justice  of  the  peace  informed  Wilson  that 


MARK    TWAIN 

he  and  Buckstone  and  the  constable  had  come  as  a 
committee,  on  the  part  of  the  Democratic  party,  to 
ask  him  to  run  for  mayor — for  the  little  town  was 
about  to  become  a  city  and  the  first  charter  election 
was  approaching.  It  was  the  first  attention  which 
Wilson  had  ever  received  at  the  hands  of  any  party; 
it  was  a  sufficiently  humble  one,  but  it  was  a  recog- 
nition of  his  debut  into  the  town's  life  and  activities 
at  last;  it  was  a  step  upward,  and  he  was  deeply 
gratified.  He  accepted,  and  the  committee  departed, 
followed  by  young  Tom. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

The  true  Southern  watermelon  is  a  boon  apart,  and  not  to  be 
mentioned  with  commoner  things.  It  is  chief  of  this  world's 
luxuries,  king  by  the  grace  of  God  over  all  the  fruits  of  the 
earth.  When  one  has  tasted  it,  he  knows  what  the  angels  eat. 
It  was  not  a  Southern  watermelon  that  Eve  took;  we  know  it 
because  she  repented. — Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

A3  OUT  the  time  that  Wilson  was  bowing  the 
committee  out,  Pembroke  Howard  was  enter- 
ing the  next  house  to  report.     He  found  the  old 
Judge  sitting  grim  and  straight  in  his  chair,  waiting. 

"Well,  Howard — the  news?" 

"The  best  in  the  world." 

"Accepts,  does  he  ?"  and  the  light  of  battle  gleamed 
joyously  in  the  Judge's  eye. 

"Accepts?     Why,  he  jumped  at  it." 

"Did,  did  he?  Now  that's  fine — that's  very  fine. 
I  like  that.  When  is  it  to  be?" 

"Now!  Straight  off!  To-night!  An  admirable 
fellow — admirable !" 

"Admirable?  He's  a  darling!  Why,  it's  an 
honor  as  well  as  a  pleasure  to  stand  up  before  such 
a  man.  Come — off  with  you!  Go  and  arrange 
everything — and  give  him  my  heartiest  compliments. 
A  rare  fellow,  indeed;  an  admirable  fellow,  as  you 
have  said!" 

Howard  hurried  away,  saying; 
117 


MARK     TWAIN 

"I'll  have  him  in  the  vacant  stretch  between 
Wilson's  and  the  haunted  house  within  the  hour,  and 
I'll  bring  my  own  pistols." 

Judge  Driscoll  began  to  walk  the  floor  in  a  state 
of  pleased  excitement ;  but  presently  he  stopped,  and 
began  to  think — began  to  think  of  Tom.  Twice  he 
moved  toward  the  secretary,  and  twice  he  turned 
away  again;  but  finally  he  said: 

"This  may  be  my  last  night  in  the  world — I  must 
not  take  the  chance.  He  is  worthless  and  unworthy, 
but  it  is  largely  my  fault.  He  was  intrusted  to  me 
by  my  brother  on  his  dying  bed,  and  I  have  indulged 
him  to  his  hurt,  instead  of  training  him  up  severely, 
and  making  a  man  of  him.  I  have  violated  my  trust, 
and  I  must  not  add  the  sin  of  desertion  to  that.  I 
have  forgiven  him  once  already,  and  would  subject 
him  to  a  long  and  hard  trial  before  forgiving  him 
again,  if  I  could  live;  but  I  must  not  run  that  risk. 
No,  I  must  restore  the  will.  But  if  I  survive  the 
duel,  I  will  hide  it  away,  and  he  will  not  know,  and 
I  will  not  tell  him  until  he  reforms,  and  I  see  that 
his  reformation  is  going  to  be  permanent." 

He  redrew  the  will,  and  his  ostensible  nephew 
was  heir  to  a  fortune  again.  As  he  was  finishing  his 
task,  Tom,  wearied  with  another  brooding  tramp, 
entered  the  house  and  went  tiptoeing  past  the  sitting- 
room  door.  He  glanced  in,  and  hurried  on,  for  the 
sight  of  his  uncle  had  nothing  but  terrors  for  him 
to-night.  But  his  uncle  was  writing!  That  was 
unusual  at  this  late  hour.  What  could  he  be  writing  ? 
A  chill  of  anxiety  settled  down  upon  Tom's  heart. 
Did  that  writing  concern  him?  He  was  afraid  so. 
118 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

He  reflected  that  when  ill  luck  begins,  it  does  not 
come  in  sprinkles,  but  in  showers.  He  said  he 
would  get  a  glimpse  of  that  document  or  know  the 
reason  why.  He  heard  some  one  coming  and 
stepped  out  of  sight  and  hearing.  It  was  Pembroke 
Howard.  What  could  be  hatching? 

Howard  said,  with  great  satisfaction: 

"Everything's  right  and  ready.  He's  gone  to  the 
battle-ground  with  his  second  and  the  surgeon — also 
with  his  brother.  I've  arranged  it  all  with  Wilson — • 
Wilson's  his  second.  We  are  to  have  three  shots 
apiece." 

"Good!    How  is  the  moon?" 

"Bright  as  day,  nearly.  Perfect,  for  the  dis- 
tance— fifteen  yards.  No  wind — not  a  breath;  hot 
and  still." 

"All  good;  all  first-rate.  Here,  Pembroke,  read 
this,  and  witness  it." 

Pembroke  read  and  witnessed  the  will,  then  gave 
the  old  man's  hand  a  hearty  shake  and  said: 

"Now  that's  right,  York — but  I  knew  you  would 
do  it.  You  couldn't  leave  that  poor  chap  to  fight 
along  without  means  or  profession,  with  certain  de- 
feat before  him,  and  I  knew  you  wouldn't,  for  his 
father's  sake  if  not  for  his  own." 

"For  his  dead  father's  sake  I  couldn't,  I  know; 
for  poor  Percy — but  you  know  what  Percy  was  to 
me.  But  mind — Tom  is  not  to  know  of  this  unless 
I  fall  to-night." 

"I  understand.     I'll  keep  the  secret." 

The  Judge  put  the  will  away,  and  the  two  started 
for  the  battle-ground.  In  another  minute  the  will 
119 


MARK    TWAIN 

was  in  Tom's  hands.  His  misery  vanished,  his 
feelings  underwent  a  tremendous  revulsion.  He  put 
the  will  carefully  back  in  its  place,  and  spread  his 
mouth  and  swung  his  hat  once,  twice,  three  times 
around  his  head,  in  imitation  of  three  rousing 
huzzas,  no  sound  issuing  from  his  lips.  He  fell  to 
communing  with  himself  excitedly  and  joyously, 
but  every  now  and  then  he  let  off  another  volley  of 
dumb  hurrahs. 

He  said  to  himself:  "I've  got  the  fortune  again, 
but  I'll  not  let  on  that  I  know  about  it.  And  this 
time  I'm  going  to  hang  onto  it.  I  take  no  more 
risks.  I'll  gamble  no  more,  I'll  drink  no  more, 
because — well,  because  I'll  not  go  where  there  is 
any  of  that  sort  of  thing  going  on,  again.  It's  the 
sure  way,  and  the  only  sure  way;  I  might  have 
thought  of  that  sooner — well,  yes,  if  I  had  wanted 
to.  But  now — dear  me,  I've  had  a  scare  this  time, 
and  I'll  take  no  more  chances.  Not  a  single  chance 
more.  Land !  I  persuaded  myself  this  evening  that 
I  could  fetch  him  around  without  any  great  amount 
of  effort,  but  I've  been  getting  more  and  more  heavy- 
hearted  and  doubtful  straight  along,  ever  since.  If 
he  tells  me  about  this  thing,  all  right;  but  if  he 
doesn't,  I  sha'n't  let  on.  I— well,  I'd  like  to  tell 
Pudd'nhead  Wilson,  but — no,  I'll  think  about  that; 
perhaps  I  won't."  He  whirled  off  another  dead 
huzza,  and  said,  "I'm  reformed,  and  this  time  I'll 
stay  so,  sure!" 

He  was  about  to  close  with  a  final  grand  silent 
demonstration,  when  he  suddenly  recollected  that 
Wilson  had  put  it  out  of  his  power  to  pawn  or  sell 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

the  Indian  knife,  and  that  he  was  once  more  in  awful 
peril  of  exposure  by  his  creditors  for  that  reason. 
His  joy  collapsed  utterly,  and  he  turned  away  and 
moped  toward  the  door  moaning  and  lamenting  over 
the  bitterness  of  his  luck.  He  dragged  himself  up- 
stairs, and  brooded  in  his  room  a  long  time  discon- 
solate and  forlorn,  with  Luigi's  Indian  knife  for  a 
text.  At  last  he  sighed  and  said : 

"When  I  supposed  these  stones  were  glass  and 
this  ivory  bone,  the  thing  hadn't  any  interest  for  me 
because  it  hadn't  any  value,  and  couldn't  help  me 
out  of  my  trouble.  But  now — why,  now  it  is  full  of 
interest;  yes,  and  of  a  sort  to  break  a  body's  heart. 
It's  a  bag  of  gold  that  has  turned  to  dirt  and  ashes 
in  my  hands.  It  could  save  me,  and  save  me  so 
easily,  and  yet  I've  got  to  go  to  ruin.  It's  like 
drowning  with  a  life-preserver  in  my  reach.  All  the 
hard  luck  comes  to  me,  and  all  the  good  luck  goes 
to  other  people — Pudd'head  Wilson,  for  instance; 
even  his  career  has  got  a  sort  of  a  little  start  at  last, 
and  what  has  he  done  to  deserve  it,  I  should  like  to 
know?  Yes,  he  has  opened  his  own  road,  but  he 
isn't  content  with  that,  but  must  block  mine.  It's  a 
sordid,  selfish  world,  and  I  wish  I  was  out  of  it." 
He  allowed  the  light  of  the  candle  to  play  upon  the 
jewels  of  the  sheath,  but  the  flashings  and  sparklings 
had  no  charm  for  his  eye;  they  were  only  just  so 
many  pangs  to  his  heart.  "I  must  not  say  anything 
to  Roxy  about  this  thing,"  he  said,  "she  is  too 
daring.  She  would  be  for  digging  these  stones  out 
and  selling  them,  and  then — why,  she  would  be 
arrested  and  the  stones  traced,  and  then — "  The 

9  121 


MARK    TWAIN 

thought  made  him  quake,  and  he  hid  the  knife  away, 
trembling  all  over  and  glancing  furtively  about,  like 
a  criminal  who  fancies  that  the  accuser  is  already  at 
hand. 

Should  he  try  to  sleep?  Oh,  no,  sleep  was  not 
for  him;  his  trouble  was  too  haunting,  too  afflicting 
for  that.  He  must  have  somebody  to  mourn  with. 
He  would  carry  his  despair  to  Roxy. 

He  had  heard  several  distant  gunshots,  but  that 
sort  of  thing  was  not  uncommon,  and  they  had  made 
no  impression  upon  him.  He  went  out  at  the  back 
door,  and  turned  westward.  He  passed  Wilson's 
house  and  proceeded  along  the  lane,  and  presently 
saw  several  figures  approaching  Wilson's  place 
through  the  vacant  lots.  These  were  the  duelists 
returning  from  the  fight;  he  thought  he  recognized 
them,  but  as  he  had  no  desire  for  white  people's 
company,  he  stooped  down  behind  the  fence  until 
they  were  out  of  his  way. 

Roxy  was  feeling  fine.     She  said: 

"Whah  was  you,  child?    Warn't  you  in  it?" 

"In  what?" 

"In  de  duel." 

"Duel?    Has  there  been  a  duel?" 

"  'Cos  dey  has.  De  old  Jedge  has  be'n  havin*  a 
duel  wid  one  o'  dem  twins." 

"Great  Scott!"  Then  he  added  to  himself: 
"That's  what  made  him  remake  the  will;  he 
thought  he  might  get  killed,  and  it  softened  him 
toward  me.  And  that's  what  he  and  Howard  were 
so  busy  about.  ...  Oh  dear,  if  the  twin  had  only 
killed  him,  I  should  be  out  of  my — " 

122 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

"What  is  you  mumblin'  'bout,  Chambers?  Whah 
was  you?  Didn't  you  know  dey  was  gwyne  to  be  a 
duel?" 

"No,  I  didn't.  The  old  man  tried  to  get  me  to 
fight  one  with  Count  Luigi,  but  he  didn't  succeed, 
so  I  reckon  he  concluded  to  patch  up  the  family 
honor  himself." 

He  laughed  at  the  idea,  and  went  rambling  on 
with  a  detailed  account  of  his  talk  with  the  Judge, 
and  how  shocked  and  ashamed  the  Judge  was  to  find 
that  he  had  a  coward  in  his  family.  He  glanced  up 
at  last,  and  got  a  shock  himself.  Roxana's  bosom 
was  heaving  with  suppressed  passion,  and  she  was 
glowering  down  upon  him  with  measureless  contempt 
written  in  her  face. 

"En  you  refuse'  to  fight  a  man  dat  kicked  you, 
'stid  o'  jumpin'  at  de  chance!  En  you  ain't  got  no 
mo'  feelin'  den  to  come  en  tell  me,  dat  fetched  sich 
a  po'  low-down  ornery  rabbit  into  de  worl'!  Pah! 
it  makes  me  sick!  It's  de  nigger  in  you,  dat's 
what  it  is.  Thirty-one  parts  o'  you  is  white,  en 
on'y  one  part  nigger,  en  dat  po'  little  one  part  is 
yo'  soul.  'Tain't  wuth  savin' ;  'tain't  wuth  totin'  out 
on  a  shovel  en  throwin'  in  de  gutter.  You  has  dis- 
graced yo'  birth.  What  would  yo'  pa  think  o'  you? 
It's  enough  to  make  him  turn  in  his  grave." 

The  last  three  sentences  stung  Tom  into  a  fury, 
and  he  said  to  himself  that  if  his  father  were  only 
alive  and  in  reach  of  assassination  his  mother  would 
soon  find  that  he  had  a  very  clear  notion  of  the  size 
of  his  indebtedness  to  that  man,  and  was  willing  to 
pay  it  up  in  full,  and  would  do  it  too,  even  at  risk  of 
123 


MARK    TWAIN 

his  life;  but  he  kept  his  thought  to  himself;  that  was 
safest  in  his  mother's  present  state. 

"Whatever  has  come  o'  yo'  Essex  blood?  Dat's 
what  I  can't  understan'.  En  it  ain't  on'y  jist  Es- 
sex blood  dat's  in  you,  not  by  a  long  sight — 'deed 
it  ain't!  My  great-great-great-gran 'father  en  yo' 
great-great-great-great-gran 'father  was  Ole  Cap'n 
John  Smith,  de  highest  blood  dat  Ole  Virginny  ever 
turned  out,  en  his  great-great-gran'mother  or  somers 
along  back  dah,  was  Pocahontas  de  Injun  queen,  en 
her  husbun'  was  a  nigger  king  outen  Africa — en  yit 
here  you  is,  a-slinkin'  outen  a  duel  en  disgracin'  our 
whole  line  like  a  ornery  low-down  hound!  Yes,  it's 
de  nigger  in  you!" 

She  sat  down  on  her  candle-box  and  fell  into  a 
reverie.  Tom  did  not  disturb  her;  he  sometimes 
lacked  prudence,  but  it  was  not  in  circumstances  of 
this  kind.  Roxana's  storm  went  gradually  down, 
but  it  died  hard,  and  even  when  it  seemed  to  be 
quite  gone,  it  would  now  and  then  break  out  in  a 
distant  rumble,  so  to  speak,  in  the  form  of  muttered 
ejaculations.  One  of  these  was,  "Ain't  nigger  enough 
in  him  to  show  in  his  finger-nails,  en  dat  takes  mighty 
little — yit  dey's  enough  to  paint  his  soul." 

Presently  she  muttered,  "Yassir,  enough  to  paint 
a  whole  thimbleful  of  'em."  At  last  her  ramblings 
ceased  altogether,  and  her  countenance  began  to 
clear — a  welcome  sign  to  Tom,  who  had  learned  her 
moods,  and  knew  she  was  on  the  threshold  of  good 
humor,  now.  He  noticed  that  from  time  to  time 
she  unconsciously  carried  her  finger  to  the  end  of 
her  nose.  He  looked  closer  and  said: 
124 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

"Why,  mammy,  the  end  of  your  nose  is  skinned. 
How  did  that  come?" 

She  sent  out  the  sort  of  whole-hearted  peal  of 
laughter  which  God  has  vouchsafed  in  its  perfection 
to  none  but  the  happy  angels  in  heaven  and  the 
bruised  and  broken  black  slave  on  the  earth,  and 
said: 

"Dad  fetch  dat  duel,  I  be'n  in  it  myself." 

"Gracious,  did  a  bullet  do  that?" 

"Yassir,  you  bet  it  did!" 

"Well,  I  declare!    Why,  how  did  that  happen?" 

"Happened  dis-away.  I  'uz  a-sett'n'  here  kinder 
dozin'  in  de  dark,  en  die-bang!  goes  a  gun,  right 
out  dah.  I  skips  along  out  towards  t'other  end  o' 
de  house  to  see  what's  gwyne  on,  en  stops  by  de 
ole  winder  on  de  side  towards  Pudd'nhead  Wilson's 
house  dat  ain't  got  no  sash  in  it — but  dey  ain't 
none  of  'em  got  any  sashes,  fur  as  dat's  concerned, 
— en  I  stood  dah  in  de  dark  en  look  out,  en  dar  in 
de  moonlight,  right  down  under  me,  'uz  one  o'  de 
twins  a-cussin' — not  much,  but  jist  a-cussin'  soft — 
it  'uz  de  brown  one  dat  'uz  cussin',  ca'se  he  'uz 
hit  in  de  shoulder.  E'n  Dr.  Claypool  he  'uz  a- 
workin'  at  him,  en  Pudd'nhead  Wilson  he  'uz  a- 
he'pin',  en  ole  Jedge  Driscoll  en  Pern  Howard  'uz 
a-standin'  out  yonder  a  little  piece  waitin'  for  'em  to 
git  ready  ag'in.  En  treckly  dey  squared  off  en  give 
de  word,  en  bang-bang  went  de  pistols,  en  de  twin  he 
say,  'Ouch!' — hit  him  on  de  han'  dis  time — en  I 
hear  dat  same  bullet  go  spat!  ag'in  de  logs  under 
de  winder;  en  de  nex'  time  dey  shoot,  de  twin  say, 
'Ouch!'  ag'in,  en  I  done  it  too,  'ca'se  de  bullet 


MARK     TWAIN 

glance  on  his  cheek-bone  en  skip  up  here  en  glance 
on  de  side  o'  de  winder  en  whiz  right  acrost  my  face 
en  tuck  de  hide  off'n  my  nose — why,  if  I'd  'a'  be'n 
jist  a  inch  or  a  inch  en  a  half  furder  'twould  'a' 
tuck  de  whole  nose  en  disfiggered  me.  Here's  de 
bullet;  I  hunted  her  up." 

"Did  you  stand  there  all  the  time?" 

"Dat's  a  question  to  ask,  ain't  it!  What  else 
would  I  do?  Does  I  git  a  chance  to  see  a  duel  every 
day?" 

"Why,  you  were  right  in  range!  Weren't  you 
afraid?" 

The  woman  gave  a  sniff  of  scorn. 

"'Fraid!  De  Smith-Pocahontases  ain't  'fraid  o* 
nothin',  let  alone  bullets." 

"They've  got  pluck  enough,  I  suppose;  what  they 
lack  is  judgment.  I  wouldn't  have  stood  there." 

"Nobody's  accusin'  you!" 

"Did  anybody  else  get  hurt?" 

"Yes,  we  all  got  hit  'cep'  de  blon'  twin  en  de 
doctor  en  de  seconds.  De  Jedge  didn't  git  hurt, 
but  I  hear  Pudd'nhead  say  de  bullet  snip  some  o' 
his  ha'r  off." 

"'George!"  said  Tom  to  himself,  "to  come  so 
near  being  out  of  my  trouble,  and  miss  it  by  an  inch. 
Oh  dear,  dear,  he  will  live  to  find  me  out  and  sell  me 
to  some  nigger-trader  yet — yes,  and  he  would  do  it 
in  a  minute."  Then  he  said  aloud,  in  a  grave  tone: 

"Mother,  we  are  in  an  awful  fix." 

Roxana  caught  her  breath  with  a  spasm,  and  said : 

"Chile!    What  you  hit  a  body  so  sudden  for, 
like  dat?    What's  be'n  en  gone  en  happen'?" 
126 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

"Well,  there's  one  thing  I  didn't  tell  you.  When 
I  wouldn't  fight,  he  tore  up  the  will  again,  and — " 

Roxana's  face  turned  a  dead  white,  and  she  said: 

"Now  you's  done! — done  forever!  Dat's  de  end. 
Bofe  un  us  is  gwyne  to  starve  to — " 

"Wait  and  hear  me  through,  can't  you!  I  reckon 
that  when  he  resolved  to  fight,  himself,  he  thought 
he  might  get  killed  and  not  have  a  chance  to  forgive 
me  any  more  in  this  life,  so  he  made  the  will  again, 
and  I've  seen  it,  and  it's  all  right.  But — " 

"Oh,  thank  goodness,  den  we's  safe  ag'in! — safe! 
en  so  what  did  you  want  to  come  here  en  talk  sich 
dreadful — " 

"Hold  on,  I  tell  you,  and  let  me  finish.  The  swag 
I  gathered  won't  half  square  me  up,  and  the  first 
thing  we  know,  my  creditors — well,  you  know 
what  '11  happen." 

Roxana  dropped  her  chin,  and  told  her  son  to 
leave  her  alone — she  must  think  this  matter  out. 
Presently  she  said  impressively: 

"You  got  to  go  mighty  keerful  now,  I  tell  you! 
En  here's  what  you  got  to  do.  He  didn't  git  killed, 
en  if  you  gives  him  de  least  reason,  he'll  bust  de  will 
ag'in,  en  dat's  de  las'  time,  now  you  hear  me!  So 
— you's  got  to  show  him  what  you  kin  do  in  de  nex' 
few  days.  You's  got  to  be  pison  good,  en  let  him 
see  it;  you  got  to  do  everything  dat  '11  make  him 
b'lieve  in  you,  en  you  got  to  sweeten  aroun'  old  Aunt 
Pratt,  too — she's  pow'ful  strong  wid  de  Jedge,  en 
de  bes'  frien'  you  got.  Nex',  you'll  go  'long  away 
to  Sent  Louis,  en  dat  '11  keep  him  in  yo'  favor.  Den 
you  go  en  make  a  bargain  wid  dem  people.  You 
127 


MARK    TWAIN 

tell  'em  he  ain't  gwyne  to  live  long — en  dat's  de 
fac',  too — en  tell  'em  you'll  pay  'em  intrust,  en 
big  intrust,  too — ten  per — what  you  call  it?" 

"Ten  per  cent,  a  month?" 

"Dat's  it.  Den  you  take  and  sell  yo'  truck  aroun', 
a  little  at  a  time,  en  pay  de  intrust.  How  long  will 
it  las'?" 

"I  think  there's  enough  to  pay  the  interest  five  or 
six  months." 

"Den  you's  all  right.  If  he  don't  die  in  six 
months,  dat  don't  make  no  diff'rence — Providence 
'11  provide.  You's  gwyne  to  be  safe — if  you  be- 
haves." She  bent  an  austere  eye  on  him  and  add- 
ed, "En  you  is  gwyne  to  behave — does  you  know 
dat?" 

He  laughed  and  said  he  was  going  to  try,  anyway. 
She  did  not  unbend.  She  said  gravely: 

"Tryin'  ain't  de  thing.  You's  gwyne  to  do  it. 
You  ain't  gwyne  to  steal  a  pin — 'ca'se  it  ain't  safe 
no  mo';  en  you  ain't  gwyne  into  no  bad  company 
— not  even  once,  you  understand;  en  you  ain't 
gwyne  to  drink  a  drop — nary  single  drop;  en  you 
ain't  gwyne  to  gamble  one  single  gamble — not  one! 
Dis  ain't  what  you's  gwyne  to  try  to  do,  it's  what 
you's  gwyne  to  do.  En  I'll  tell  you  how  I  knows 
it.  Dis  is  how.  I's  gwyne  to  f oiler  along  to  Sent 
Louis  my  own  self ;  en  you's  gwyne  to  come  to  me 
every  day  o'  yo'  life,  en  I'll  look  you  over;  en  if 
you  fails  in  one  single  one  o'  dem  things — jist  one 
— I  take  my  oath  I'll  come  straight  down  to  dis 
town  en  tell  de  Jedge  you's  a  nigger  en  a  slave — 
en  prove  it!"  She  paused  to  let  her  words  sink 
128 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

home.  Then  she  added,  "Chambers,  does  you 
b'lieve  me  when  I  says  dat?" 

Tom  was  sober  enough  now.  There  was  no  levity 
in  his  voice  when  he  answered: 

"Yes,  mother,  I  know,  now,  that  I  am  reformed 
— and  permanently.  Permanently — and  beyond  the 
reach  of  any  human  temptation." 

"Den  g'  long  home  en  begin!" 


CHAPTER  XV 

Nothing  so  needs  reforming  as  other  people's  habits. 

— Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

Behold,  the  fool  saith,  "Put  not  all  thine  eggs  in  the  one 
basket" — which  is  but  a  manner  of  saying,  "Scatter  your 
money  and  your  attention";  but  the  wise  man  saith,  "Put  all 
your  eggs  in  the  one  basket  and — WATCH  THAT  BASKET." 

—Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar 

WHAT  a  time  of  it  Dawson's  Landing  was  hav- 
ing !  All  its  life  it  had  been  asleep,  but  now 
it  hardly  got  a  chance  for  a  nod,  so  swiftly  did  big 
events  and  crashing  surprises  come  along  in  one 
another's  wake:  Friday  morning,  first  glimpse  of 
Real  Nobility,  also  grand  reception  at  Aunt  Patsy 
Cooper's,  also  great  robber  raid;  Friday  evening, 
dramatic  kicking  of  the  heir  of  the  chief  citizen  in 
presence  of  four  hundred  people;  Saturday  morn- 
ing, emergence  as  practising  lawyer  of  the  long-sub- 
merged Pudd'nhead  Wilson;  Saturday  night,  duel 
between  chief  citizen  and  titled  stranger. 

The  people  took  more  pride  in  the  duel  than  in  all 
the  other  events  put  together,  perhaps.  It  was  a 
glory  to  their  town  to  have  such  a  thing  happen  there. 
In  their  eyes  the  principals  had  reached  the  summit 
of  human  honor.  Everybody  paid  homage  to  their 
names;  their  praises  were  in  all  mouths.  Even  the 
130 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

duelists'  subordinates  came  in  for  a  handsome  share 
of  the  public  approbation:  wherefore  Pudd'nhead 
Wilson  was  suddenly  become  a  man  of  consequence. 
When  asked  to  run  for  the  mayoralty  Saturday  night 
he  was  risking  defeat,  but  Sunday  morning  found  him 
a  made  man  and  his  success  assured. 

The  twins  were  prodigiously  great,  now;  the  town 
took  them  to  its  bosom  with  enthusiasm.  Day  after 
day,  and  night  after  night,  they  went  dining  and 
visiting  from  house  to  house,  making  friends,  enlarg- 
ing and  solidifying  their  popularity,  and  charming 
and  surprising  all  with  their  musical  prodigies,  and 
now  and  then  heightening  the  effects  with  samples  of 
what  they  could  do  in  other  directions,  out  of  their 
stock  of  rare  and  curious  accomplishments.  They 
were  so  pleased  that  they  gave  the  regulation  thirty 
days'  notice,  the  required  preparation  for  citizenship, 
and  resolved  to  finish  their  days  in  this  pleasant 
place.  That  was  the  climax.  The  delighted  com- 
munity rose  as  one  man  and  applauded;  and  when 
the  twins  were  asked  to  stand  for  seats  in  the  forth- 
coming aldermanic  board,  and  consented,  the  public 
contentment  was  rounded  and  complete. 

Tom  Driscoll  was  not  happy  over  these  things; 
they  sunk  deep,  and  hurt  all  the  way  down.  He 
hated  the  one  twin  for  kicking  him,  and  the  other 
one  for  being  the  kicker's  brother. 

Now  and  then  the  people  wondered  why  nothing 
was  heard  of  the  raider,  or  of  the  stolen  knife  or  the 
other  plunder,  but  nobody  was  able  to  throw  any 
light  on  that  matter.  Nearly  a  week  had  drifted  by, 
and  still  the  thing  remained  a  vexed  mystery. 


MARK    TWAIN 

On  Saturday  Constable  Blake  and  Pudd'nhead 
Wilson  met  on  the  street,  and  Tom  Driscoll  joined 
them  in  time  to  open  their  conversation  for  them. 
He  said  to  Blake:  "You  are  not  looking  well, 
Blake;  you  seem  to  be  annoyed  about  something. 
Has  anything  gone  wrong  in  the  detective  business? 
I  believe  you  fairly  and  justifiably  claim  to  have  a 
pretty  good  reputation  in  that  line,  isn't  it  so?" — 
which  made  Blake  feel  good,  and  look  it;  but  Tom 
added,  "for  a  country  detective" — which  made 
Blake  feel  the  other  way,  and  not  only  look  it,  but 
betray  it  in  his  voice: 

"Yes,  sir,  I  have  got  a  reputation;  and  it's  as 
good  as  anybody's  in  the  profession,  too,  country 
or  no  country." 

"Oh,  I  beg  pardon;  I  didn't  mean  any  offense. 
What  I  started  out  to  ask  was  only  about  the  old 
woman  that  raided  the  town — the  stoop-shouldered 
old  woman,  you  know,  that  you  said  you  were 
going  to  catch ;  and  I  knew  you  would,  too,  because 
you  have  the  reputation  of  never  boasting,  and — 
well,  you — you've  caught  the  old  woman?" 

"D the  old  woman!" 

"Why,  sho!  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  haven't 
caught  her?" 

"No;  I  haven't  caught  her.  If  anybody  could 
have  caught  her,  I  could;  but  nobody  couldn't,  I 
don't  care  who  he  is." 

"I  am  sorry,  real  sorry — for  your  saxe;  be- 
cause, when  it  gets  around  that  a  detective  has  ex- 
pressed himself  so  confidently,  and  then — " 

"Don't  you  worry,  that's  all — don't  you  worry; 
132 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

and  as  for  the  town,  the  town  needn't  worry,  either. 
She's  my  meat — make  yourself  easy  about  that. 
I'm  on  her  track;  I've  got  clues  that — " 

"That's  good!  Now  if  you  could  get  an  old 
veteran  detective  down  from  St.  Louis  to  help  you 
find  out  what  the  clues  mean,  and  where  they  lead 
to,  and  then — " 

"I'm  plenty  veteran  enough  myself,  and  I  don't 
need  anybody's  help.  I'll  have  her  inside  of  a  we — 
inside  of  a  month.  That  I'll  swear  to!" 

Tom  said  carelessly: 

"I  suppose  that  will  answer — yes,  that  will 
answer.  But  I  reckon  she  is  pretty  old,  and  old 
people  don't  often  outlive  the  cautious  pace  of  the 
professional  detective  when  he  has  got  his  clues 
together  and  is  out  on  his  still-hunt." 

Blake's  dull  face  flushed  under  this  gibe,  but  be- 
fore he  could  set  his  retort  in  order  Tom  had  turned 
to  Wilson,  and  was  saying,  with  placid  indifference 
of  manner  and  voice: 

"Who  got  the  reward,  Pudd'nhead?" 

Wilson  winced  slightly,  and  saw  that  his  own  turn 
was  come. 

"What  reward?" 

"Why,  the  reward  for  the  thief,  and  the  other  one 
for  the  knife." 

Wilson  answered — and  rather  uncomfortably,  to 
judge  by  his  hesitating  fashion  of  delivering  him- 
self: 

"Well,  the — well,  in  fact,  nobody  has  claimed  it 
yet." 

Tom  seemed  surprised. 

133 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Why,  is  that  so?" 

Wilson  showed  a  trifle  of  irritation  when  he 
replied : 

"Yes,  it's  so.    And  what  of  it?" 

"Oh,  nothing.  Only  I  thought  you  had  struck 
out  a  new  idea,  and  invented  a  scheme  that  was 
going  to  revolutionize  the  time-worn  and  ineffectual 
methods  of  the — "  He  stopped,  and  turned  to 
Blake,  who  was  happy  now  that  another  had  taken 
his  place  on  the  gridiron:  "Blake,  didn't  you  un- 
derstand him  to  intimate  that  it  wouldn't  be  neces- 
sary for  you  to  hunt  the  old  woman  down?" 

"B 'George,  he  said  he'd  have  thief  and  swag  both 
inside  of  three  days — he  did,  by  hokey!  and  that's 
just  about  a  week  ago.  Why,  I  said  at  the  time  that 
no  thief  and  no  thief's  pal  was  going  to  try  to  pawn 
or  sell  a  thing  where  he  knowed  the  pawnbroker 
could  get  both  rewards  by  taking  him  into  camp  with 
the  swag.  It  was  the  blessedest  idea  that  ever  I 
struck!" 

"You'd  change  your  mind,"  said  Wilson,  with 
irritated  bluntness,  "if  you  knew  the  entire  scheme 
instead  of  only  part  of  it." 

"Well,"  said  the  constable,  pensively,  "I  had 
the  idea  that  it  wouldn't  work,  and  up  to  now  I'm 
right  anyway." 

"Very  well,  then,  let  it  stand  at  that,  and  give  it  a 
further  show.  It  has  worked  at  least  as  well  as  your 
own  methods,  you  perceive." 

The  constable  hadn't  anything  handy  to  hit  back 
with,  so  he  discharged  a  discontented  sniff,  and  said 
nothing. 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

After  the  night  that  Wilson  had  partly  revealed  his 
scheme  at  his  house,  Tom  had  tried  for  several  days 
to  guess  out  the  secret  of  the  rest  of  it,  but  had 
failed.  Then  it  occurred  to  him  to  give  Roxana's 
smarter  head  a  chance  at  it.  He  made  up  a  suppos- 
ititious case,  and  laid  it  before  her.  She  thought 
it  over,  and  delivered  her  verdict  upon  it.  Tom 
said  to  himself,  "She's  hit  it,  sure!"  He  thought 
he  would  test  that  verdict,  now,  and  watch  Wilson's 
face;  so  he  said  reflectively: 

"Wilson,  you're  not  a  fool — a  fact  of  recent  dis- 
covery. Whatever  your  scheme  was,  it  had  sense  in 
it,  Blake's  opinion  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding. 
I  don't  ask  you  to  reveal  it,  but  I  will  suppose  a 
case — a  case  which  will  answer  as  a  starting-point 
for  the  real  thing  I  am  going  to  come  at,  and  that's 
all  I  want.  You  offered  five  hundred  dollars  for  the 
knife,  and  five  hundred  for  the  thief.  We  will  sup- 
pose, for  argument's  sake,  that  the  first  reward  is 
advertised  and  the  second  offered  by  private  letter  to 
pawnbrokers  and — " 

Blake  slapped  his  thigh,  and  cried  out: 

"By  Jackson,  he's  got  you,  Pudd'nhead!  Now 
why  couldn't  I  or  any  fool  have  thought  of  that?" 

Wilson  said  to  himself,  "Anybody  with  a  reason- 
ably good  head  would  have  thought  of  it.  I  am  not 
surprised  that  Blake  didn't  detect  it ;  I  am  only  sur- 
prised that  Tom  did.  There  is  more  to  him  than  I 
supposed."  He  said  nothing  aloud,  and  Tom  went 
on: 

"Very  well.  The  thief  would  not  suspect  that 
there  was  a  trap,  and  he  would  bring  or  send  the 


MARK    TWAIN 

knife,  and  say  he  bought  it  for  a  song,  or  found  it 
in  the  road,  or  something  like  that,  and  try  to  col- 
lect the  reward,  and  be  arrested — wouldn't  he?" 

"Yes,"  said  Wilson. 

"I  think  so,"  said  Tom.  "There  can't  be  any 
doubt  of  it.  Have  you  ever  seen  that  knife?" 

"No." 

"Has  any  friend  of  yours?" 

"Not  that  I  know  of." 

"Well,  I  begin  to  think  I  understand  why  your 
scheme  failed." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Tom?  What  are  you  driv- 
ing at?"  asked  Wilson,  with  a  dawning  sense  of  dis- 
comfort. 

"Why,  that  there  isn't  any  such  knife." 

"Look  here,  Wilson,"  said  Blake,  "Tom  Dris- 
coll's  right,  for  a  thousand  dollars — if  I  had  it." 

Wilson's  blood  warmed  a  little,  and  he  wondered 
if  he  had  been  played  upon  by  those  strangers;  it 
certainly  had  something  of  that  look.  But  what 
could  they  gain  by  it?  He  threw  out  that  sugges- 
tion. Tom  replied: 

"Gain?  Oh,  nothing  that  you  would  value, 
maybe.  But  they  are  strangers  making  their  way  in 
a  new  community.  Is  it  nothing  to  them  to  appear 
as  pets  of  an  Oriental  prince — at  no  expense?  Is 
it  nothing  to  them  to  be  able  to  dazzle  this  poor  little 
town  with  thousand-dollar  rewards — at  no  expense? 
Wilson,  there  isn't  any  such  knife,  or  your  scheme 
would  have  fetched  it  to  light.  Or  if  there  is  any 
such  knife,  they've  got  it  yet.  I  believe,  myself, 
that  they've  seen  such  a  knife,  for  Angelo  pictured 
136 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

it  out  with  his  pencil  too  swiftly  and  handily  for  him 
to  have  been  inventing  it,  and  of  course  I  can't  swear 
that  they've  never  had  it;  but  this  I'll  go  bail  for — 
if  they  had  it  when  they  came  to  this  town,  they've 
got  it  yet." 

Blake  said: 

"It  looks  mighty  reasonable,  the  way  Tom  puts 
it;  it  most  certainly  does." 

Tom  responded,  turning  to  leave: 

"You  find  the  old  woman,  Blake,  and  if  she  can't 
furnish  the  knife,  go  and  search  the  twins!" 

Tom  sauntered  away.  Wilson  felt  a  good  deal  de- 
pressed. He  hardly  knew  what  to  think.  He  was 
loath  to  withdraw  his  faith  from  the  twins,  and  was 
resolved  not  to  do  it  on  the  present  indecisive 
evidence;  but — well,  he  would  think,  and  then  de- 
cide how  to  act. 

"Blake,  what  do  you  think  of  this  matter?" 

"Well,  Pudd'nhead,  I'm  bound  to  say  I  put  it  up 
the  way  Tom  does.  They  hadn't  the  knife;  or  if 
they  had  it,  they've  got  it  yet." 

The  men  parted.     Wilson  said  to  himself: 

"I  believe  they  had  it;  if  it  had  been  stolen,  the 
scheme  would  have  restored  it,  that  is  certain.  And 
so  I  believe  they've  got  it  yet." 

Tom  had  no  purpose  in  his  mind  when  he  en- 
countered those  two  men.  When  he  began  his  talk 
he  hoped  to  be  able  to  gall  them  a  little  and  get  a 
trifle  of  malicious  entertainment  out  of  it.  But  when 
he  left,  he  left  in  great  spirits,  for  he  perceived  that 
just  by  pure  luck  and  no  troublesome  labor  he  had 
accomplished  several  delightful  things:  he  had 
10  137 


MARK    TWAIN 

touched  both  men  on  a  raw  spot  and  seen  them 
squirm;  he  had  modified  Wilson's  sweetness  for  the 
twins  with  one  small  bitter  taste  that  he  wouldn't  be 
able  to  get  out  of  his  mouth  right  away;  and,  best 
of  all,  he  had  taken  the  hated  twins  down  a  peg 
with  the  community;  for  Blake  would  gossip  around 
freely,  after  the  manner  of  detectives,  and  within  a 
week  the  town  would  be  laughing  at  them  in  its  sleeve 
for  offering  a  gaudy  reward  for  a  bauble  which  they 
either  never  possessed  or  hadn't  lost.  Tom  was  very 
well  satisfied  with  himself. 

Tom's  behavior  at  home  had  been  perfect  during 
the  entire  week.  His  uncle  and  aunt  had  seen  noth- 
ing like  it  before.  They  could  find  no  fault  with 
him  anywhere. 

Saturday  evening  he  said  to  the  Judge : 

"I've  had  something  preying  on  my  mind,  uncle, 
and  as  I  am  going  away,  and  might  never  see  you 
again,  I  can't  bear  it  any  longer.  I  made  you 
believe  I  was  afraid  to  fight  that  Italian  adventurer. 
I  had  to  get  out  of  it  on  some  pretext  or  other,  and 
maybe  I  chose  badly,  being  taken  unawares,  but  no 
honorable  person  could  consent  to  meet  him  in  the 
field,  knowing  what  I  know  about  him," 

"Indeed?    What  was  that?" 

"Count  Luigi  is  a  confessed  assassin." 

"Incredible!" 

"It  is  perfectly  true.  Wilson  detected  it  in  his 
hand,  by  palmistry,  and  charged  him  with  it,  and 
cornered  him  up  so  close  that  he  had  to  confess; 
but  both  twins  begged  us  on  their  knees  to  keep  the 
secret,  and  swore  they  would  lead  straight  lives  here; 
138 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

and  it  was  all  so  pitiful  that  we  gave  our  word  of 
honor  never  to  expose  them  while  they  kept  that 
promise.  You  would  have  done  it  yourself,  uncle." 

"You  are  right,  my  boy;  I  would.  A  man's 
secret  is  still  his  own  property,  and  sacred,  when  it 
has  been  surprised  out  of  him  like  that.  You  did 
well,  and  I  am  proud  of  you."  Then  he  added 
mournfully,  "But  I  wish  I  could  have  been  saved 
the  shame  of  meeting  an  assassin  on  the  field  of 
honor." 

"It  couldn't  be  helped,  uncle.  If  I  had  known 
you  were  going  to  challenge  him  I  should  have  felt 
obliged  to  sacrifice  my  pledged  word  in  order  to  stop 
it,  but  Wilson  couldn't  be  expected  to  do  otherwise 
than  keep  silent." 

"Oh,  no;  Wilson  did  right,  and  is  in  no  way  to 
blame.  Tom,  Tom,  you  have  lifted  a  heavy  load 
from  my  heart ;  I  was  stung  to  the  very  soul  when  I 
seemed  to  have  discovered  that  I  had  a  coward  in 
my  family." 

"You  may  imagine  what  it  cost  me  to  assume 
such  a  part,  uncle." 

"Oh,  I  know  it,  poor  boy,  I  know  it.  And  I  can 
understand  how  much  it  has  cost  you  to  remain  under 
that  unjust  stigma  to  this  time.  But  it  is  all  right 
now,  and  no  harm  is  done.  You  have  restored  my 
comfort  of  mind,  and  with  it  your  own;  and  both  of 
us  had  suffered  enough." 

The  old  man  sat  awhile  plunged  in  thought;  then 

he  looked  up  with  a  satisfied  light  in  his  eye,  and 

said :  ' '  That  this  assassin  should  have  put  the  affront 

upon  me  of  letting  me  meet  him  on  the  field  of 

139 


MARK    TWAIN 

honor  as  if  he  were  a  gentleman  is  a  matter  which 
I  will  presently  settle — but  not  now.  I  will  not 
shoot  him  until  after  election.  I  see  a  way  to  ruin 
them  both  before;  I  will  attend  to  that  first.  Neither 
of  them  shall  be  elected,  that  I  promise.  You  are 
sure  that  the  fact  that  he  is  an  assassin  has  not  got 
abroad?" 

"Perfectly  certain  of  it,  sir." 

"It  will  be  a  good  card.  I  will  fling  a  hint  at  it 
from  the  stump  on  the  polling  day.  It  will  sweep 
the  ground  from  under  both  of  them." 

"There's  not  a  doubt  of  it.     It  will  finish  them." 

"That  and  outside  work  among  the  voters  will,  to 
a  certainty.  I  want  you  to  come  down  here  by  an 
by  and  work  privately  among  the  rag-tag  and  bob- 
tail. You  shall  spend  money  among  them;  I  will 
furnish  it." 

Another  point  scored  against  the  detested  twins! 
Really  it  was  a  great  day  for  Tom.  He  was  en- 
couraged to  chance  a  parting  shot,  at  the  same 
target,  and  did  it. 

"You  know  that  wonderful  Indian  knife  that  the 
twins  have  been  making  such  a  to-do  about?  Well, 
there's  no  track  or  trace  of  it  yet;  so  the  town  is 
beginning  to  sneer  and  gossip  and  laugh.  Half  the 
people  believe  they  never  had  any  such  knife,  the 
other  half  believe  they  had  it  and  have  got  it  still. 
I've  heard  twenty  people  talking  like  that  to-day." 

Yes,  Tom's  blemishless  week  had  restored  him  to 
the  favor  of  his  aunt  and  uncle. 

His  mother  was  satisfied  with  him,  too.     Privately, 
she  believed  she  was  coming  to  love  him,  but  she  did 
140 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

not  say  so.  She  told  him  to  go  along  to  St.  Louis, 
now,  and  she  would  get  ready  and  follow.  Then 
she  smashed  her  whisky  bottle  and  said: 

"Dah  now!  I's  a-gwyne  to  make  you  walk  as 
straight  as  a  string,  Chambers,  en  so  I's  bown'  you 
ain't  gwyne  to  git  no  bad  example  out  o'  yo'  mammy. 
I  tole  you  you  couldn't  go  into  no  bad  comp'ny. 
Well,  you's  gwyne  into  my  comp'ny,  en  I's  gwyne 
to  fill  de  bill.  Now,  den,  trot  along,  trot  along!" 

Tom  went  aboard  one  of  the  big  transient  boats 
that  night  with  his  heavy  satchel  of  miscellaneous 
plunder,  and  slept  the  sleep  of  the  unjust,  which  is 
serener  and  sounder  than  the  other  kind,  as  we  know 
by  the  hanging-eve  history  of  a  million  rascals.  But 
when  he  got  up  in  the  morning,  luck  was  against  him 
again:  A  brother  thief  had  robbed  him  while  he 
slept,  and  gone  ashore  at  some  intermediate  landing. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

If  you  pick  up  a  starving  dog  and  make  him  prosperous,  he 
will  not  bite  you.  This  is  the  principal  difference  between  a 
dog  and  a  man. — Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

We  know  all  about  the  habits  of  the  ant,  we  know  all  about  the 
habits  of  the  bee,  but  we  know  nothing  at  all  about  the  habits 
of  the  oyster.  It  seems  almost  certain  that  we  have  been 
choosing  the  wrong  time  for  studying  the  oyster. 

— Pudd'nJiead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

WHEN  Roxana  arrived,  she  found  her  son  in 
such  despair  and  misery  that  her  heart  was 
touched  and  her  motherhood  rose  up  strong  in  her. 
He  was  ruined  past  hope,  now;  his  destruction  would 
be  immediate  and  sure,  and  he  would  be  an  outcast 
and  friendless.  That  was  reason  enough  for  a  mother 
to  love  a  child;  so  she  loved  him,  and  told  him  so. 
It  made  him  wince,  secretly — for  she  was  a  "nigger." 
That  he  was  one  himself  was  far  from  reconciling 
him  to  that  despised  race. 

Roxana  poured  out  endearments  upon  him,  to 
which  he  responded  uncomfortably,  but  as  well  as  he 
could.  And  she  tried  to  comfort  him,  but  that  was 
not  possible.  These  intimacies  quickly  became  hor- 
rible to  him,  and  within  the  hour  he  began  to  try  to 
get  up  courage  enough  to  tell  her  so,  and  require  that 
they  be  discontinued  or  very  considerably  modified. 
But  he  was  afraid  of  her;  and  besides,  there  came  a 
142 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

lull,  now,  for  she  had  begun  to  think.  She  was  try- 
ing to  invent  a  saving  plan.  Finally  she  started  up, 
and  said  she  had  found  a  way  out.  Tom  was  almost 
suffocated  by  the  joy  of  this  sudden  good  news. 
Roxana  said: 

"Here  is  de  plan,  en  she'll  win,  sure.  I's  a  nig- 
ger, en  nobody  ain't  gwyne  to  doubt  it  dat  hears  me 
talk.  I's  wuth  six  hund'd  dollahs.  Take  en  sell 
me,  en  pay  off  dese  gamblers." 

Tom  was  dazed.  He  was  not  sure  he  had  heard 
aright.  He  was  dumb  for  a  moment;  then  he  said: 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  would  be  sold  into 
slavery  to  save  me?" 

"Ain't  you  my  chile?  En  does  you  know  any- 
thing dat  a  mother  won't  do  for  her  chile?  Dey 
ain't  nothin'  a  white  mother  won't  do  for  her  chile. 
Who  made  'em  so?  De  Lord  done  it.  En  who 
made  de  niggers?  De  Lord  made  'em.  In  de  in- 
side, mothers  is  all  de  same.  De  good  Lord  he  made 
'em  so.  I's  gwyne  to  be  sole  into  slavery,  en  in  a 
year  you's  gwyne  to  buy  yo'  ole  mammy  free_ag'in. 
I'll  show  you  how.  Dat's  de  plan." 

Tom's  hopes  began  to  rise,  and  his  spirits  along 
with  them.  He  said: 

"It's  lovely  of  you,  mammy — it's  just — " 

"Say  it  ag'in!  En  keep  on  sayin'  it!  It's  all 
de  pay  a  body  kin  want  in  dis  worl',  en  it's  mo'  den 
enough.  Laws  bless  you,  honey,  when  I's  slavin' 
aroun',  en  dey  'buses  me,  if  I  knows  you's  a-sayin' 
dat,  'way  off  yonder  somers,  it  '11  heal  up  all  de  sore 
places,  en  I  kin  stan'  'em." 

"I  do  say  it  again,  mammy,  and  I'll  keep  on  say- 


MARK    TWAIN 

ing  it,  too.  But  ho  warn  I  going  to  sell  you?  You're 
free,  you  know." 

"Much  difference  dat  make!  White  folks  ain't 
partic'lar.  De  law  kin  sell  me  now  if  dey  tell  me  to 
leave  de  state  in  six  months  en  I  don't  go.  You 
draw  up  a  paper — bill  o'  sale — en  put  it  'way  off 
yonder,  down  in  de  middle  o'  Kaintuck  somers,  en 
sign  some  names  to  it,  en  say  you'll  sell  me  cheap 
'ca'se  you's  hard  up ;  you'll  find  you  ain't  gwyne  to 
have  no  trouble.  You  take  me  up  de  country  a 
piece,  en  sell  me  on  a  farm;  den  people  ain't  gwyne 
to  ask  no  questions  if  I's  a  bargain." 

Tom  forged  a  bill  of  sale  and  sold  his  mother  to  an 
Arkansas  cotton-planter  for  a  trifle  over  six  hundred 
dollars.  He  did  not  want  to  commit  this  treachery, 
but  luck  threw  the  man  in  his  way,  and  this  saved 
him  the  necessity  of  going  up  country  to  hunt  up 
a  purchaser,  with  the  added  risk  of  having  to  answer 
a  lot  of  questions,  whereas  this  planter  was  so  pleased 
with  Roxy  that  he  asked  next  to  none  at  all.  Be- 
sides, the  planter  insisted  that  Roxy  wouldn't 
know  where  she  was,  at  first,  and  that  by  the  time 
she  found  out  she  would  already  have  become 
contented. 

So  Tom  argued  with  himself  that  it  was  an  im- 
mense advantage  for  Roxy  to  have  a  master  who 
was  as  pleased  with  her,  as  this  planter  manifestly 
was.  In  almost  no  time  his  flowing  reasonings  car- 
ried him  to  the  point  of  even  half  believing  he  was 
doing  Roxy  a  splendid  surreptitious  service  in  sell- 
ing her  "down  the  river."  And  then  he  kept  dili- 
gently saying  to  himself  all  the  time:  "It's  for  only 
144 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

a  year.  In  a  year  I  buy  her  free  again;  she'll  keep 
that  in  mind,  and  it  '11  reconcile  her."  Yes,  the  lit- 
tle deception  could  do  no  harm,  and  everything 
would  come  out  right  and  pleasant  in  the  end,  any- 
way. By  agreement,  the  conversation  in  Roxy's 
presence  was  all  about  the  man's  "up-country" 
farm,  and  how  pleasant  a  place  it  was,  and  how 
happy  the  slaves  were  there;  so  poor  Roxy  was  en- 
tirely deceived;  and  easily,  for  she  was  not  dreaming 
that  her  own  son  could  be  guilty  of  treason  to  a 
mother  who,  in  voluntarily  going  into  slavery — slav- 
ery of  any  kind,  mild  or  severe,  or  of  any  duration, 
brief  or  long — was  making  a  sacrifice  for  him  com- 
pared with  which  death  would  have  been  a  poor  and 
commonplace  one.  She  lavished  tears  and  loving 
caresses  upon  him  privately,  and  then  went  away 
with  her  owner — went  away  broken-hearted,  and  yet 
proud  of  what  she  was  doing,  and  glad  that  it  was 
in  her  power  to  do  it. 

Tom  squared  his  accounts,  and  resolved  to  keep 
to  the  very  letter  of  his  reform,  and  never  to  put 
that  will  in  jeopardy  again.  He  had  three  hundred 
dollars  left.  According  to  his  mother's  plan,  he  was 
to  put  that  safely  away,  and  add  her  half  of  his 
pension  to  it  monthly.  In  one  year  this  fund  would 
buy  her  free  again. 

For  a  whole  week  he  was  not  able  to  sleep  well,  so 
much  the  villainy  which  he  had  played  upon  his 
trusting  mother  preyed  upon  his  rag  of  a  conscience ; 
but  after  that  he  began  to  get  comfortable  again, 
and  was  presently  able  to  sleep  like  any  other  mis- 
creant. 

145 


MARK    TWAIN 

The  boat  bore  Roxy  away  from  St.  Louis  at  four 
in  the  afternoon,  and  she  stood  on  the  lower  guard 
abaft  the  paddle-box  and  watched  Tom  through  a 
blur  of  tears  until  he  melted  into  the  throng  of  peo- 
ple and  disappeared;  then  she  looked  no  more,  but 
sat  there  on  a  coil  of  cable  crying  till  far  into  the 
night.  When  she  went  to  her  foul  steerage  bunk 
at  last,  between  the  clashing  engines,  it  was  not  to 
sleep,  but  only  to  wait  for  the  morning,  and,  wait- 
ing, grieve. 

It  had  been  imagined  that  she  "would  not  know," 
and  would  think  she  was  traveling  up-stream.  She ! 
Why,  she  had  been  steamboating  for  years.  At 
dawn  she  got  up  and  went  listlessly  and  sat  down 
on  the  cable-coil  again.  She  passed  many  a  snag 
whose  "break"  could  have  told  her  a  thing  to  break 
her  heart,  for  it  showed  a  current  moving  in  the  same 
direction  that  the  boat  was  going;  but  her  thoughts 
were  elsewhere,  and  she  did  not  notice.  But  at  last 
the  roar  of  a  bigger  and  nearer  break  than  usual 
brought  her  out  of  her  torpor,  and  she  looked  up, 
and  her  practised  eye  fell  upon  that  telltale  rush  of 
water.  For  one  moment  her  petrified  gaze  fixed 
itself  there.  Then  her  head  dropped  upon  her 
breast,  and  she  said: 

"Oh,  de  good  Lord  God  have  mercy  on  po'  sin- 
ful me — Ps  sole  down  de  river!" 


CHAPTER  XVII 

Even  popularity  can  be  overdone.  In  Rome,  along  at  first, 
you  are  full  of  regrets  that  Michelangelo  died;  but  by  and  by 
you  only  regret  that  you  didn't  see  him  do  it. 

— Pttdd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

July  4.  Statistics  show  that  we  lose  more  fools  on  this  day 
than  in  all  the  other  days  of  the  year  put  together.  This  proves, 
by  the  number  left  in  stock,  that  one  Fourth  of  July  per  year 
is  now  inadequate,  the  country  has  grown  so. 

— Pttdd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

THE  summer  weeks  dragged  by,  and  then  the 
political  campaign  opened — opened  in  pretty 
warm  fashion,  and  waxed  hotter  and  hotter  daily. 
The  twins  threw  themselves  into  it  with  their  whole 
heart,  for  their  self-love  was  engaged.  Their  popu- 
larity, so  general  at  first,  had  suffered  afterward; 
mainly  because  they  had  been  too  popular,  and  so  a 
natural  reaction  had  followed.  Besides,  it  had  been 
diligently  whispered  around  that  it  was  curious — 
indeed,  very  curious — that  that  wonderful  knife  of 
theirs  did  not  turn  up — if  it  was  so  valuable,  or  if 
it  had  ever  existed.  And  with  the  whisperings  went 
chucklings  and  nudgings  and  winks,  and  such  things 
have  an  effect.  The  twins  considered  that  success 
in  the  election  would  reinstate  them,  and  that  defeat 
would  work  them  irreparable  damage.  Therefore 


MARK     TWAIN 

they  worked  hard,  but  not  harder  than  Judge  Dris- 
coll  and  Tom  worked  against  them  in  the  closing 
days  of  the  canvass.  Tom's  conduct  had  remained 
so  letter-perfect  during  two  whole  months,  now,  that 
his  uncle  not  only  trusted  him  with  money  with 
which  to  persuade  voters,  but  trusted  him  to  go 
and  get  it  himself  out  of  the  safe  in  the  private 
sitting-room. 

The  closing  speech  of  the  campaign  was  made  by 
Judge  Driscoll,  and  he  made  it  against  both  of  the 
foreigners.  It  was  disastrously  effective.  He  poured 
out  rivers  of  ridicule  upon  them,  and  forced  the  big 
mass-meeting  to  laugh  and  applaud.  He  scoffed  at 
them  as  adventurers,  mountebanks,  side-show  riff- 
raff, dime-museum  freaks;  he  assailed  their  showy 
titles  with  measureless  derision;  he  said  they  were 
back-alley  barbers  disguised  as  nobilities,  peanut- 
peddlers  masquerading  as  gentlemen,  organ-grinders 
bereft  of  their  brother  monkey.  At  last  he  stopped 
and  stood  still.  He  waited  until  the  place  had  be- 
come absolutely  silent  and  expectant,  then  he  de- 
livered his  deadliest  shot;  delivered  it  with  ice-cold 
seriousness  and  deliberation,  with  a  significant  em- 
phasis upon  the  closing  words:  he  said  that  he  be- 
lieved that  the  reward  offered  for  the  lost  knife  was 
humbug  and  buncombe,  and  that  its  owner  would 
know  where  to  find  it  whenever  he  should  have  oc- 
casion to  assassinate  somebody. 

Then  he  stepped  from  the  stand,  leaving  a  startled 
and  impressive  hush  behind  him  instead  of  the  cus- 
tomary explosion  of  cheers  and  party  cries. 

The  strange  remark  flew  far  and  wide  over  the 
148 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

town  and  made  an  extraordinary  sensation.  Every- 
body was  asking,  "What  could  he  mean  by  that?" 

And  everybody  went  on  asking  that  question,  but 
in  vain;  for  the  Judge  only  said  he  knew  what  he 
was  talking  about,  and  stopped  there;  Tom  said  he 
hadn't  any  idea  what  his  uncle  meant,  and  Wilson, 
whenever  he  was  asked  what  he  thought  it  meant, 
parried  the  question  by  asking  the  questioner  what 
he  thought  it  meant. 

Wilson  was  elected,  the  twins  were  defeated — 
crushed,  in  fact,  and  left  forlorn  and  substantially 
friendless.  Tom  went  back  to  St.  Louis  happy. 

Dawson's  Landing  had  a  week  of  repose,  now,  and 
it  needed  it.  But  it  was  in  an  expectant  state,  for 
the  air  was  full  of  rumors  of  a  new  deal.  Judge 
Driscoll's  election  labors  had  prostrated  him,  but 
it  was  said  that  as  soon  as  he  was  well  enough  to 
entertain  a  challenge  he  would  get  one  from  Count 
Luigi. 

The  brothers  withdrew  entirely  from  society,  and 
nursed  their  humiliation  in  privacy.  They  avoided 
the  people,  and  went  out  for  exercise  only  late  at 
night,  when  the  streets  were  deserted. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

Gratitude  and  treachery  are  merely  the  two  extremities  of  the 
same  procession.  You  have  seen  all  of  it  that  is  worth  staying 
for  when  the  band  and  the  gaudy  officials  have  gone  by. 

— Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

Thanksgiving  Day.  Let  all  give  humble,  hearty,  and  sincere 
thanks,  now,  but  the  turkeys.  In  the  island  of  Fiji  they  do  not 
use  turkeys;  they  use  plumbers.  It  does  not  become  you  and 
me  to  sneer  at  Fiji. — Piidd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

THE  Friday  after  the  election  was  a  rainy  one  in 
St.  Louis.  It  rained  all  day  long,  and  rained 
hard,  apparently  trying  its  best  to  wash  that  soot- 
blackened  town  white,  but  of  course  not  succeeding. 
Toward  midnight  Tom  Driscoll  arrived  at  his  lodg- 
ings from  the  theater  in  the  heavy  downpour,  and 
closed  his  umbrella  and  let  himself  in;  but  when  he 
would  have  shut  the  door,  he  found  that  there  was 
another  person  entering — doubtless  another  lodger; 
this  person  closed  the  door  and  tramped  up-stairs 
behind  Tom.  Tom  found  his  door  in  the  dark,  and 
entered  it  and  turned  up  the  gas.  When  he  faced 
about,  lightly  whistling,  he  saw  the  back  of  a  man. 
The  man  was  closing  and  locking  his  door  for  him. 
His  whistle  faded  out  and  he  felt  uneasy.  The  man 
turned  around,  a  wreck  of  shabby  old  clothes,  sod- 
den with  rain  and  all  a-drip,  and  showed  a  black  face 
150 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

under  an  old  slouch  hat.  Tom  was  frightened.  He 
tried  to  order  the  man  out,  but  the  words  refused  to 
come,  and  the  other  man  got  the  start.  He  said,  in 
a  low  voice: 

"Keep  still — I's  yo'  mother!" 

Tom  sunk  in  a  heap  on  a  chair,  and  gasped  out : 

"It  was  mean  of  me,  and  base — I  know  it;  but 
I  meant  it  for  the  best,  I  did  indeed — I  can  swear  it." 

Roxana  stood  awhile  looking  mutely  down  on  him 
while  he  writhed  in  shame  and  went  on  incoherently 
babbling  self -accusations  mixed  with  pitiful  attempts 
at  explanation  and  palliation  of  his  crime;  then  she 
seated  herself  and  took  off  her  hat,  and  her  unkempt 
masses  of  long  brown  hair  tumbled  down  about  her 
shoulders. 

"It  ain't  no  fault  o'  yo'n  dat  dat  ain't  gray,"  she 
said  sadly,  noticing  the  hair. 

"I  know  it,  I  know  it!  I'm  a  scoundrel.  But  I 
swear  I  meant  it  for  the  best.  It  was  a  mistake,  of 
course,  but  I  thought  it  was  for  the  best,  I  truly 
did." 

Roxy  began  to  cry  softly,  and  presently  words  be- 
gan to  find  their  way  out  between  her  sobs.  They 
were  uttered  lamentingly,  rather  than  angrily: 

"Sell  a  pusson  down  de  river — down  de  river! — 
for  de  bes'!  I  wouldn't  treat  a  dog  so!  I  is  all 
broke  down  en  wore  out,  now,  en  so  I  reckon  it  ain't 
in  me  to  storm  aroun*  no  mo',  like  I  used  to  when 
I  'uz  trompled  on  en  'bused.  I  don't  know — but 
maybe  it's  so.  Leastways,  I's  suffered  so  much  dat 
mournin'  seem  to  come  mo'  handy  to  me  now  den 
stormin'." 


MARK    TWAIN 

These  words  should  have  touched  Tom  Driscoll, 
but,  if  they  did,  that  effect  was  obliterated  by  a 
stronger  one — one  which  removed  the  heavy  weight 
of  fear  which  lay  upon  him,  and  gave  his  crushed 
spirit  a  most  grateful  rebound,  and  filled  all  his  small 
soul  with  a  deep  sense  of  relief.  But  he  kept  pru- 
dently still,  and  ventured  no  comment.  There  was 
a  voiceless  interval  of  some  duration,  now,  in  which 
no  sounds  were  heard  but  the  beating  of  the  rain 
upon  the  panes,  the  sighing  and  complaining  of  the 
winds,  and  now  and  then  a  muffled  sob  from  Roxana. 
The  sobs  became  more  and  more  infrequent,  and  at 
last  ceased.  Then  the  refugee  began  to  talk  again. 

"Shet  down  dat  light  a  little.  More.  More  yit. 
A  pusson  dat  is  hunted  don't  like  de  light.  Dah 
— dat  '11  do.  I  kin  see  whah  you  is,  en  dat's  enough. 
I's  gwyne  to  tell  you  de  tale,  en  cut  it  jes  as  short 
as  I  kin,  en  den  I'll  tell  you  what  you's  got  to  do. 
Dat  man  dat  bought  me  ain't  a  bad  man;  he's  good 
enough,  as  planters  goes;  en  if  he  could  'a'  had  his 
way  I'd  'a'  be'n  a  house-servant  in  his  fambly  en 
be'n  comfortable:  but  his  wife  she  was  a  Yank,  en 
not  right  down  good-lookin',  en  she  riz  up  agin  me 
straight  off;  so  den  dey  sent  me  out  to  de  quarter 
'mongst  de  common  fiel*  han's.  Dat  woman  warn't 
satisfied  even  wid  dat,  but  she  worked  up  de  over- 
seer agin  me,  she  'uz  dat  jealous  en  hateful;  so  de 
overseer  he  had  me  out  befo'  day  in  de  mawnin's 
en  worked  me  de  whole  long  day  as  long  as  dey  'uz 
any  light  to  see  by;  en  many's  de  lashin's  I  got 
'ca'se  I  couldn't  come  up  to  de  work  o'  de  stronges'. 
Dat  overseer  wuz  a  Yank,  too,  outen  New  Englan', 
152 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

en  anybody  down  South  kin  tell  you  what  dat  mean. 
Dey  knows  how  to  work  a  nigger  to  death,  en  dey 
knows  how  to  whale  'em,  too — whale  'em  till  dey 
backs  is  welted  like  a  washboard.  'Long  at  fust  my 
marster  say  de  good  word  for  me  to  de  overseer,  but 
dat  'uz  bad  for  me;  for  de  mistis  she  fine  it  out,  en 
arter  dat  I  jis  ketched  it  at  every  turn — dey  warn't 
no  mercy  for  me  no  mo'." 

Tom's  heart  was  fired — with  fury  against  the 
planter's  wife;  and  he  said  to  himself,  "But  for  that 
meddlesome  fool,  everything  would  have  gone  all 
right."  He  added  a  deep  and  bitter  curse  against 
her. 

The  expression  of  this  sentiment  was  fiercely 
written  in  his  face,  and  stood  thus  revealed  to 
Roxana  by  a  white  glare  of  lightning  which  turned 
the  somber  dusk  of  the  room  into  dazzling  day  at 
that  moment.  She  was  pleased — pleased  and  grate- 
ful; for  did  not  that  expression  show  that  her  child 
was  capable  of  grieving  for  his  mother's  wrongs  and 
of  feeling  resentment  toward  her  persecutors? — a 
thing  which  she  had  been  doubting.  But  her  flash 
of  happiness  was  only  a  flash,  and  went  out  again 
and  left  her  spirit  dark;  for  she  said  to  herself,  "He 
sole  me  down  de  river — he  can't  feel  for  a  body 
long:  dis  '11  pass  en  go."  Then  she  took  up  her 
tale  again. 

'"Bout  ten  days  ago  I  'uz  sayin*  to  myself  dat  I 
couldn't  las'  many  mo'  weeks  I  'uz  so  wore  out  wid 
de  awful  work  en  de  lashin's,  en  so  downhearted  en 
misable.  En  I  didn't  care  no  mo',  nuther — life 
warn't  wuth  noth'n'  to  me,  if  I  got  to  go  on  like  dat. 


MARK    TWAIN 

Well,  when  a  body  is  in  a  frame  o'  mine  like  dat, 
what  do  a  body  care  what  a  body  do?  Dey  was  a 
little  sickly  nigger  wench  'bout  ten  year  ole  dat  'uz 
good  to  me,  en  hadn't  no  mammy,  po'  thing,  en  I 
loved  her  en  she  loved  me;  en  she  come  out  whah  I 
'uz  workin',  en  she  had  a  roasted  tater,  en  tried  to  slip 
it  to  me — robbin'  herself,  you  see,  'ca'se  she  knowed 
de  overseer  didn't  gimme  enough  to  eat — en  he 
ketched  her  at  it,  en  give  her  a  lick  acrost  de  back 
wid  his  stick,  which  'uz  as  thick  as  a  broom-handle, 
en  she  drop'  screamin'  on  de  groun',  en  squirmin' 
en  wallerin'  aroun'  in  de  dust  like  a  spider  dat's  got 
crippled.  I  couldn't  stan'  it.  All  de  hell-fire  dat 
'uz  ever  in  my  heart  flame'  up,  en  I  snatch  de  stick 
outen  his  han'  en  laid  him  flat.  He  laid  dah  moanin' 
en  cussin',  en  all  out  of  his  head,  you  know,  en  de 
niggers  'uz  plumb  sk'yerd  to  death.  Dey  gathered 
roun'  him  to  he'p  him,  en  I  jumped  on  his  hoss  en 
took  out  for  de  river  as  tight  as  I  could  go.  I 
knowed  what  dey  would  do  wid  me.  Soon  as  he 
got  well  he  would  start  in  en  work  me  to  death  if 
marster  let  him;  en  if  dey  didn't  do  dat,  dey'd  sell 
me  furder  down  de  river,  en  dat's  de  same  thing. 
So  I  'lowed  to  drown  myself  en  git  out  o'  my  troubles. 
It  'uz  gitt'n'  towards  dark.  I  'uz  at  de  river  in  two 
minutes.  Den  I  see  a  canoe,  en  I  says  dey  ain't  no 
use  to  drown  myself  tell  I  got  to;  so  I  ties  de  hoss 
in  de  edge  o'  de  timber  en  shove  out  down  de  river, 
keepin'  in  under  de  shelter  o'  de  bluff  bank  en 
prayin'  for  de  dark  to  shet  down  quick.  I  had  a 
pow'ful  good  start,  'c'ase  de  big  house  'uz  three  mile 
back  f'om  do  river  en  on'y  de  work-mules  to  ride 
iS4 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

dah  on,  en  on'y  niggers  to  ride  'em,  en  dey  warn't 
gwyne  to  hurry — dey'd  gimme  all  de  chance  dey 
could.  Befo'  a  body  could  go  to  de  house  en  back 
it  would  be  long  pas'  dark,  en  dey  couldn't  track  de 
hoss  en  fine  out  which  way  I  went  tell  mawnin',  en 
de  niggers  would  tell  'em  all  de  lies  dey  could  'bout  it. 
"Well,  de  dark  come,  en  I  went  on  a-spinnin' 
down  de  river.  I  paddled  mo'n  two  hours,  den  I 
warn't  worried  no  mo',  so  I  quit  paddlin',  en  floated 
down  de  current,  considerm'  what  I  'uz  gwyne  to  do 
if  I  didn't  have  to  drown  myself.  I  made  up  some 
plans,  en  floated  along,  turnin'  'em  over  in  my 
mine.  Well,  when  it  'uz  a  little  pas'  midnight,  as  I 
reckoned,  en  I  had  come  fifteen  or  twenty  mile,  I 
see  de  lights  of  a  steamboat  layin'  at  de  bank,  whah 
dey  warn't  no  town  en  no  wood-yard,  en  putty  soon 
I  ketched  de  shape  o'  de  chimbly-tops  agin  de 
stars,  en  de  good  gracious  me,  I  'most  jumped  out 
o'  my  skin  for  joy!  It  'uz  Gran*  Mogul — I  'uz 
chambermaid  on  her  for  eight  seasons  in  de  Cincin- 
nati en  Orleans  trade.  I  slid  'long  pas' — don't  see 
nobody  stirrin'  nowhah — hear  'em  a-hammerin' 
away  in  de  engine-room,  den  I  knowed  what  de 
matter  was — some  o'  de  machinery's  broke.  I  got 
asho'  below  de  boat  en  turn'  de  canoe  loose,  den  I 
goes  'long  up,  en  dey  'uz  jes  one  plank  out,  en  I 
step'  'board  de  boat.  It  uz'  pow'ful  hot,  deck-han's 
en  roustabouts  'uz  sprawled  aroun*  asleep  on  de 
fo'casT,  de  second  mate,  Jim  Bangs,  he  sot  dah  on 
de  bitts  wid  his  head  down,  asleep — 'ca'se  dat's  de 
way  de  second  mate  stan'  de  cap'n's  watch! — en 
de  ole  watchman,  Billy  Hatch,  he  'uz  a-noddin'  on 
155 


MARK    TWAIN 

de  companion  way ; — en  I  knowed  'em  all;  'en,  Ian', 
but  dey  did  look  good!  I  says  to  myself,  I  wished 
old  marster'd  come  along  now  en  try  to  take  me 
— bless  yo'  heart,  I's  'mong  frien's,  I  is.  So  I 
tromped  right  along  'mongst  'em,  en  went  up  on  de 
b'iler-deck  en  'way  back  aft  to  de  ladies'  cabin 
guard,  en  sot  down  dah  in  de  same  cheer  dat  I'd 
sot  in  'mos'  a  hund'd  million  times,  I  reckon;  en  it 
'uz  jist  home  ag'in,  I  tell  you ! 

"In  'bout  an  hour  I  heard  de  ready-bell  jingle, 
en  den  de  racket  begin.  Putty  soon  I  hear  de  gong 
strike.  'Set  her  back  on  de  outside,'  I  says  to  my- 
self— 'I  reckon  I  knows  dat  music!'  I  hear  de  gong 
ag'in.  'Come  ahead  on  de  inside,'  I  says.  Gong 
ag'in.  'Stop  de  outside.'  Gong  ag'in.  'Come  ahead 
on  de  outside — now  we's  pinted  for  Sent  Louis, 
en  I's  outer  de  woods  en  ain't  got  to  drown  myself 
at  all.'  I  knowed  de  Mogul  'uz  in  de  Sent  Louis 
trade  now,  you  see.  It  'uz  jes  fair  daylight  when 
we  passed  our  plantation,  en  I  seed  a  gang  o'  niggers 
en  white  folks  huntin'  up  en  down  de  sho',  en 
troublin'  deyselves  a  good  deal  'bout  me;  but  I 
warn't  troublin'  myself  none  'bout  dem. 

'"Bout  dat  time  Sally  Jackson,  dat  used  to  be 
my  second  chambermaid  en  'uz  head  chambermaid 
now,  she  come  out  on  de  guard,  en  'uz  pow'ful  glad 
to  see  me,  en  so  'uz  all  de  officers;  en  I  tole  'em 
I'd  got  kidnapped  en  sole  down  de  river,  en  dey 
made  me  up  twenty  dollahs  en  give  it  to  me,  en  Sally 
she  rigged  me  out  wid  good  clo'es,  en  when  I  got 
here  I  went  straight  to  whah  you  used  to  wuz,  eti 
den  I  come  to  dis  house,  en  dey  say  you's  away  but 
156 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

'spected  back  every  day;  so  I  didn't  dast  to  go  down 
de  river  to  Dawson's,  'ca'se  I  might  miss  you. 

"Well,  las'  Monday  I  'uz  pass'n'  by  one  o'  dem 
places  in  Fourth  Street  whah  deh  sticks  up  runaway- 
nigger  bills,  en  he'ps  to  ketch  'em,  en  I  seed  my 
marster!  I  'mos'  flopped  down  on  de  groun',  I  felt 
so  gone.  He  had  his  back  to  me,  en  'uz  talkin'  to 
de  man  en  givin'  him  some  bills — nigger-bills,  I 
reckon,  en  I's  de  nigger.  He's  offerin'  a  reward — 
dat's  it.  Ain't  I  right,  don't  you  reckon?" 

Tom  had  been  gradually  sinking  into  a  state  of 
ghastly  terror,  and  he  said  to  himself,  now:  "I'm 
lost,  no  matter  what  turn  things  take!  This  man 
has  said  to  me  that  he  thinks  there  was  something 
suspicious  about  that  sale.  He  said  he  had  a  letter 
from  a  passenger  on  the  Grand  Mogul  saying  that 
Roxy  came  here  on  that  boat  and  that  everybody  on 
board  knew  all  about  the  case;  so  he  says  that  her 
coming  here  instead  of  flying  to  a  free  state  looks 
bad  for  me,  and  that  if  I  don't  find  her  for  him,  and 
that  pretty  soon,  he  will  make  trouble  for  me.  I 
never  believed  that  story;  I  couldn't  believe  she 
would  be  so  dead  to  all  motherly  instincts  as  to 
come  here,  knowing  the  risk  she  would  run  of  getting 
me  into  irremediable  trouble.  And  after  all,  here 
she  is !  And  I  stupidly  swore  I  would  help  him  find 
her,  thinking  it  was  a  perfectly  safe  thing  to  promise. 
If  I  venture  to  deliver  her  up,  she — she — but  how 
can  I  help  myself?  I've  got  to  do  that  or  pay  the 
money,  and  where's  the  money  to  come  from?  I— • 
I — well,  I  should  think  that  if  he  would  swear  to 
treat  her  kindly  hereafter — and  she  says,  herself,  that 


MARK    TWAIN 

he  is  a  good  man — and  if  he  would  swear  to  never 
allow  her  to  be  overworked,  or  ill  fed,  or — 

A  flash  of  lightning  exposed  Tom's  pallid  face, 
drawn  and  rigid  with  these  worrying  thoughts. 
Roxana  spoke  up  sharply  now,  and  there  was  appre- 
hension in  her  voice : 

"Turn  up  dat  light!  I  want  to  see  yo'  face 
better.  Dah  now — lemme  look  at  you.  Chambers, 
you's  as  white  as  yo'  shirt!  Has  you  seen  dat  man? 
Has  he  be'n  to  see  you?" 

"Ye-s." 

"When?" 

"Monday  noon." 

''Monday  noon!    Was  he  on  my  track?" 

"He — well,  he  thought  he  was.  That  is,  he 
hoped  he  was.  This  is  the  bill  you  saw."  He  took 
it  out  of  his  pocket. 

"Read  it  tome!" 

She  was  panting  with  excitement,  and  there  was  a 
dusky  glow  in  her  eyes  that  Tom  could  not  translate 
with  certainty,  but  there  seemed  to  be  something 
threatening  about  it.  The  handbill  had  the  usual 
rude  woodcut  of  a  turbaned  negro  woman  running, 
with  the  customary  bundle  on  a  stick  over  her 
shoulder,  and  the  heading  in  bold  type,  "$ioo 
REWARD."  Tom  read  the  bill  aloud — at  least  the 
part  that  described  Roxana  and  named  the  master 
and  his  St.  Louis  address  and  the  address  of  the 
Fourth  Street  agency;  but  he  left  out  the  item  that 
applicants  for  the  reward  might  also  apply  to  Mr. 
Thomas  Driscoll. 

" Gimme  de  bill!" 

158 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

Tom  had  folded  it  and  was  putting  it  in  his  pocket. 
He  felt  a  chilly  streak  creeping  down  his  back,  but 
said  as  carelessly  as  he  could: 

"The  bill?  Why,  it  isn't  any  use  to  you,  you 
can't  read  it.  What  do  you  want  with  it?" 

"Gimme  de  bill!"  Tom  gave  it  to  her,  but  with 
a  reluctance  which  he  could  not  entirely  disguise. 
"Did  you  read  it  all  to  me?" 

"Certainly  I  did." 

"Hole  up  yo'  han'  en  swah  to  it." 

Tom  did  it.  Roxana  put  the  bill  carefully  away 
in  her  pocket,  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon  Tom's  face 
all  the  while;  then  she  said: 

"Yo'slyinM" 

"What  would  I  want  to  lie  about  it  for?" 

"I  don't  know — but  you  is.  Dat's  my  opinion, 
anyways.  But  nemmine  'bout  dat.  When  I  seed 
dat  man  I  'uz  dat  sk'yerd  dat  I  could  sca'cely  wabble 
home.  Den  I  give  a  nigger  man  a  dollar  for  dese 
clo'es,  en  I  ain't  be'n  in  a  house  sence,  night  ner 
day,  till  now.  I  blackened  my  face  en  laid  hid  in 
de  cellar  of  a  ole  house  dat's  burnt  down,  daytimes, 
en  robbed  de  sugar  hogsheads  en  grain-sacks  on  de 
wharf,  nights,  to  git  somethin'  to  eat,  en  never  dast 
to  try  to  buy  noth'n',  en  I's  mos'  starved.  En  I 
never  dast  come  near  dis  place  till  dis  rainy  night, 
when  dey  ain't  no  people  roun'  sca'cely.  But  to- 
night I  be'n  a-stannin'  in  de  dark  alley  ever  sence 
night  come,  waitin'  for  you  to  go  by.  En  here 
I  is." 

She  fell  to  thinking.     Presently  she  said: 

"You  seed  dat  man  at  noon,  las'  Monday?" 
159 


MARK     TWAIN 

"Yes." 

"I  seed  him  de  middle  o'  dat  arternoon.  He 
hunted  you  up,  didn't  he?" 

"Yes." 

"Did  he  give  you  de  bill  dat  time?" 

"No,  he  hadn't  got  it  printed  yet." 

Roxana  darted  a  suspicious  glance  at  him. 

"Did  you  he'p  him  fix  up  de  bill?" 

Tom  cursed  himself  for  making  that  stupid  blun- 
der, and  tried  to  rectify  it  by  saying  he  remembered, 
now,  that  it  was  at  noon  Monday  that  the  man 
gave  him  the  bill.  Roxana  said: 

"You's  lyin'  ag'in,  sho."  Then  she  straightened 
up  and  raised  her  finger: 

"Now  den!  I's  gwyne  to  ask  you  a  question,  en 
I  wants  to  know  how  you's  gwyne  to  git  aroun'  it. 
You  knowed  he  'uz  arter'me;  en  if  you  run  off, 
'stid  o'  stayin'  here  to  he'p  him,  he'd  know  dey  'uz 
somethin'  wrong  'bout  dis  business,  en  den  he  would 
inquire  'bout  you,  en  dat  would  take  him  to  yo' 
uncle,  en  yo'  uncle  would  read  de  bill  en  see  dat  you 
be'n  sellin'  a  free  nigger  down  de  river,  en  you  know 
him,  I  reckon!  He'd  far  up  de  will  en  kick  you 
outen  de  house.  Now,  den,  you  answer  me  dis 
question:  Hain't  you  tole  dat  man  dat  I  would  be 
sho'  to  come  here,  and  den  you  would  fix  it  so  he 
could  set  a  trap  en  ketch  me?" 

Tom  recognized  that  neither  lies  nor  argument 
could  help  him  any  longer — he  was  in  a  vise,  with 
the  screw  turned  on,  and  out  of  it  there  was  no 
budging.  His  face  began  to  take  on  an  tigly  look, 
and  presently  he  said,  with  a  snarl: 
1 60 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

"Well,  what  coma  A  dor  You  see,  yourself,  that 
I  was  in  his  grip  and  couldn't  get  out." 

Roxy  scorched  him  with  a  scornful  gaze  awhile, 
then  she  said: 

"What  could  you  do?  You  could  be  Judas  to 
yo'  own  mother  to  save  yo'  wuthless  hide!  Would 
anybody  b'lieve  it?  No — a  dog  couldn't!  You  is 
de  low-downest  orneriest  hound  dat  was  ever  pup'd 
into  dis  worl' — en  I's  'sponsible  for  it!" — and  she 
spat  on  him. 

He  made  no  effort  to  resent  this.  Roxy  reflected 
a  moment,  then  she  said: 

"Now  I'll  tell  you  what  you's  gwyne  to  do. 
You's  gwyne  to  give  dat  man  de  money  dat  you's 
got  laid  up,  en  make  him  wait  till  you  kin  go  to  de 
Jedge  en  git  de  res'  en  buy  me  free  ag'in." 

"Thunder!  what  are  you  thinking  of?  Go  and 
ask  him  for  three  hundred  dollars  and  odd?  What 
would  I  tell  him  I  want  with  it,  pray?" 

Roxy's  answer  was  delivered  in  a  serene  and  level 
voice : 

"You'll  tell  him  you's  sole  me  to  pay  yo'  gamblin' 
debts  en  dat  you  lied  to  me  en  was  a  villain,  en  dat 
I  'quires  you  to  git  dat  money  en  buy  me  back 
ag'in." 

"Why,  you've  gone  stark  mad!  He  would  tear 
the  will  to  shreds  in  a  minute — don't  you  know 
that?" 

"Yes,  I  does." 

"Then  you  don't  believe  I'm  idiot  enough  to  go 
to  him,  do  you?" 

"I  don't  b'lieve  nothin'  'bout  it — I  knows  you's 
161 


MARK    TWAIN 

a-goin'.  I  knows  it  'ca'se  you  knows  dat  if  you 
don't  raise  dat  money  I'll  go  to  him  myself,  en  den 
he'll  sell  you  down  de  river,  en  you  kin  see  how 
you  like  it!" 

Tom  rose,  trembling  and  excited,  and  there  was 
an  evil  light  in  his  eye.  He  strode  to  the  door  and 
said  he  must  get  out  of  this  suffocating  place  for  a 
moment  and  clear  his  brain  in  the  fresh  air  so  that 
he  could  determine  what  to  do.  The  door  wouldn't 
open.  Roxy  smiled  grimly,  and  said: 

"I's  got  de  key,  honey — set  down.  You  needn't 
cle'r  up  yo'  brain  none  to  fine  out  what  you  gwyne 
to  do.  I  knows  what  you's  gwyne  to  do."  Tom 
sat  down  and  began  to  pass  his  hands  through  his 
hair  with  a  helpless  and  desperate  air.  Roxy  said, 
"Is  dat  man  in  dis  house?" 

Tom  glanced  up  with  a  surprised  expression,  and 
asked : 

"What  gave  you  such  an  idea?" 

"You  done  it.  Gwyne  out  to  cle'r  yo'  brain! 
In  de  fust  place  you  ain't  got  none  to  cle'r,  en  in  de 
second  place  yo'  ornery  eye  tole  on  you.  You's  de 
low-downest  hound  dat  ever — but  I  done  tole  you 
dat  befo'.  Now  den,  dis  is  Friday.  You  kin  fix  it 
up  wid  dat  man,  en  tell  him  you's  gwyne  away  to 
git  de  res'  o'  de  money,  en  dat  you'll  be  back  wid 
it  nex'  Tuesday,  or  maybe  Wednesday.  You  under- 
stan'?" 

Tom  answered  sullenly: 

"Yes." 

"En  when  you  gits  de  new  bill  o'  sale  dat  sells  me 
to  my  own  self,  take  en  send  it  in  de  mail  to  Mr. 
162 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

Pudd'nhead  Wilson,  en  write  on  de  back  dat  he's  to 
keep  it  tell  I  come.     You  understand" 

"Yes." 

"Dat's  all  den.  Take  yo'  umbreller,  en  put  on 
yo'  hat." 

"Why?" 

"Beca'se  you's  gwyne  to  see  me  home  to  de 
wharf.  You  see  dis  knife?  I's  toted  it  aroun' 
sence  de  day  I  seed  dat  man  en  bought  dese  clo'es 
en  it.  If  he  ketch  me,  I's  gwyne  to  kill  myself  wid 
it.  Now  start  along,  en  go  sof,  en  lead  de  way; 
en  if  you  gives  a  sign  in  dis  house,  or  if  anybody 
comes  up  to  you  in  de  street,  I's  gwyne  to  jam  it 
right  into  you.  Chambers,  does  you  b'lieve  me 
when  I  says  dat?" 

""It's  no  use  to  bother  me  with  that  question.  I 
know  your  word's  good." 

"Yes,  it's  diff'rent  from  yo'n!  Shet  de  light  out 
en  move  along — here's  de  key." 

They  were  not  followed.  Tom  trembled  every 
time  a  late  straggler  brushed  by  them  on  the  street, 
and  half  expected  to  feel  the  cold  steel  in  his  back. 
Roxy  was  right  at  his  heels  and  always  in  reach. 
After  tramping  a  mile  they  reached  a  wide  vacancy 
on  the  deserted  wharves,  and  in  this  dark  and  rainy 
desert  they  parted. 

As  Tom  trudged  home  his  mind  was  full  of  dreary 
thoughts  and  wild  plans ;  but  at  last  he  said  to  him- 
self, wearily: 

"There  is  but  the  one  way  out.     I  must  follow 
her  plan.    But  with  a  variation — I  will  not  ask  for  the 
money  and  ruin  myself;  I  will  rob  the  old  skinflint." 
163 


CHAPTER  XIX 

Few  things  are  harder  to  put  up  with  than  the  annoyance  of  a 
good  example. — Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

It  were  not  best  that  we  should  all  think  alike;  it  is  difference 
of  opinion  that  makes  horse-races. 

— Pudtfnhead,  Wilson's  Calendar. 

DAWSON'S  LANDING  was  comfortably  finish- 
ing its  season  of  dull  repose  and  waiting  pa- 
tiently for  the  duel.  Count  Luigi  was  waiting,  too; 
but  not  patiently,  rumor  said.  Sunday  came,  and 
Luigi  insisted  on  having  his  challenge  conveyed. 
Wilson  carried  it.  Judge  Driscoll  declined  to  fight 
with  an  assassin — "that  is,"  he  added  significantly, 
"in  the  field  of  honor." 

Elsewhere,  of  course,  he  would  be  ready.  Wilson 
tried  to  convince  him  that  if  he  had  been  present 
himself  when  Angelo  told  about  the  homicide  com- 
mitted by  Luigi,  he  would  not  have  considered  the 
act  discreditable  to  Luigi ;  but  the  obstinate  old  man 
was  not  to  be  moved. 

Wilson  went  back  to  his  principal  and  reported 
the  failure  of  his  mission.  Luigi  was  incensed,  and 
asked  how  it  could  be  that  the  old  gentleman,  who 
was  by  no  means  dull-witted,  held  his  trifling 
nephew's  evidence  and  inferences  to  be  of  more  value 
than  Wilson's.  But  Wilson  laughed,  and  said: 
164 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

"That  is  quite  simple;  that  is  easily  explicable. 
I  am  not  his  doll — his  baby — his  infatuation:  his 
nephew  is.  The  Judge  and  his  late  wife  never  had 
any  children.  The  Judge  and  his  wife  were  past 
middle  age  when  this  treasure  fell  into  their  lap. 
One  must  make  allowances  for  a  parental  instinct 
that  has  been  starving  for  twenty -five  or  thirty  years. 
It  is  famished,  it  is  crazed  with  hunger  by  that  time, 
and  will  be  entirely  satisfied  with  anything  that 
comes  handy;  its  taste  is  atrophied,  it  can't  tell  mud- 
cat  from  shad.  A  devil  born  to  a  young  couple  is 
measurably  recognizable  by  them  as  a  devil  before 
long,  but  a  devil  adopted  by  an  old  couple  is  an 
angel  to  them,  and  remains  so,  through  thick  and 
thin.  Tom  is  this  old  man's  angel;  he  is  infatuated 
with  him.  Tom  can  persuade  him  into  things  which 
other  people  can't — not  all  things;  I  don't  mean  that, 
but  a  good  many — particularly  one  class  of  things: 
the  things  that  create  or  abolish  personal  partialities 
or  prejudices  in  the  old  man's  mind.  The  old  man 
liked  both  of  you.  Tom  conceived  a  hatred  for 
you.  That  was  enough;  it  turned  the  old  man 
around  at  once.  The  oldest  and  strongest  friend- 
ship must  go  to  the  ground  when  one  of  these  late- 
adopted  darlings  throws  a  brick  at  it." 

"It's  a  curious  philosophy,"  said  Luigi. 

"It  ain't  a  philosophy  at  all — it's  a  fact.  And 
there  is  something  pathetic  and  beautiful  about  it, 
too.  I  think  there  is  nothing  more  pathetic  than  to 
see  one  of  these  poor  old  childless  couples  taking  a 
menagerie  of  yelping  little  worthless  dogs  to  their 
hearts;  and  then  adding  some  cursing  and  squawk- 
165 


MARK    TWAIN 

ing  parrots  and  a  jackass- voiced  macaw;  and  next 
a  couple  of  hundred  screeching  song-birds,  and 
presently  some  fetid  guinea-pigs  and  rabbits,  and  a 
howling  colony  of  cats.  It  is  all  a  groping  and  igno- 
rant effort  to  construct  out  of  base  metal  and  brass 
filings,  so  to  speak,  something  to  take  the  place  of 
that  golden  treasure  denied  them  by  Nature,  a  child. 
But  this  is  a  digression.  The  unwritten  law  of  this 
region  requires  you  to  kill  Judge  Driscoll  on  sight, 
and  he  and  the  community  will  expect  that  attention 
at  your  hands — though  of  course  your  own  death 
by  his  bullet  will  answer  every  purpose.  Look  out 
for  him!  Are  you  heeled — that  is,  fixed?" 

"Yes;  he  shall  have  his  opportunity.  If  he 
attacks  me  I  will  respond." 

As  Wilson  was  leaving,  he  said : 

"The  Judge  is  still  a  little  used  up  by  his  cam- 
paign work,  and  will  not  get  out  for  a  day  or  so; 
but  when  he  does  get  out,  you  want  to  be  on  the 
alert." 

About  eleven  at  night  the  twins  went  out  for 
exercise,  and  started  on  a  long  stroll  in  the  veiled 
moonlight. 

Tom  Driscoll  had  landed  at  Hackett's  Store,  two 
miles  below  Dawson's,  just  about  half  an  hour 
earlier,  the  only  passenger  for  that  lonely  spot,  and 
had  walked  up  the  shore  road  and  entered  Judge 
Briscoll's  house  without  having  encountered  any 
one  either  on  the  road  or  under  the  roof. 

He  pulled  down  his  window-blinds  and  lighted 
his  candle.  He  laid  off  his  coat  and  hat  and  began 
his  preparations.  He  unlocked  his  trunk  and  got 
166 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

his  suit  of  girl's  clothes  out  from  under  the  male 
attire  in  it,  and  laid  it  by.  Then  he  blacked  his 
face  with  burnt  cork  and  put  the  cork  in  his  pocket. 
His  plan  was,  to  slip  down  to  his  uncle's  private 
sitting-room  below,  pass  into  the  bedroom,  steal  the 
safe-key  from  the  old  gentleman's  clothes,  and  then 
go  back  and  rob  the  safe.  He  took  up  his  candle  to 
start.  His  courage  and  confidence  were  high,  up  to 
this  point,  but  both  began  to  waver  a  little,  now. 
Suppose  he  should  make  a  noise,  by  some  accident, 
and  get  caught — say,  in  the  act  of  opening  the 
safe?  Perhaps  it  would  be  well  to  go  armed.  He 
took  the  Indian  knife  from  its  hiding-place,  and  felt 
a  pleasant  return  of  his  wandering  courage.  He 
slipped  stealthily  down  the  narrow  stair,  his  hair 
rising  and  his  pulses  halting  at  the  slightest  creak. 
When  he  was  half-way  down,  he  was  disturbed  to 
perceive  that  the  landing  below  was  touched  by  a 
faint  glow  of  light.  What  could  that  mean?  Was 
his  uncle  still  up?  No,  that  was  not  likely;  he 
must  have  left  his  night  taper  there  when  he  went 
to  bed.  Tom  crept  on  down,  pausing  at  every  step 
to  listen.  He  found  the  door  standing  open,  and 
glanced  in.  What  he  saw  pleased  him  beyond 
measure.  His  uncle  was  asleep  on  the  sofa;  on  a 
small  table  at  the  head  of  the  sofa  a  lamp  was  burn- 
ing low,  and  by  it  stood  the  old  man's  small  tin  cash- 
box,  closed.  Near  the  box  was  a  pile  of  bank-notes 
and  a  piece  of  paper  covered  with  figures  in  pencil. 
The  safe-door  was  not  open.  Evidently  the  sleeper 
had  wearied  himself  with  work  upon  his  finances, 
and  was  taking  a  rest. 

167 


MARK    TWAIN 

Tom  set  his  candle  on  the  stairs,  and  began  to 
make  his  way  toward  the  pile  of  notes,  stooping  low 
as  he  went.  When  he  was  passing  his  uncle,  the 
old  man  stirred  in  his  sleep,  and  Tom  stopped 
instantly — stopped,  and  softly  drew  the  knife  from 
its  sheath,  with  his  heart  thumping,  and  his  eyes 
fastened  upon  his  benefactor's  face.  After  a  mo- 
ment or  two  he  ventured  forward  again — one  step 
— reached  for  his  prize  and  seized  it,  dropping  the 
knife-  sheath.  Then  he  felt  the  old  man's  strong  grip 
upon  him,  and  a  wild  cry  of  "Help!  help!"  rang 
in  his  ear.  Without  hesitation  he  drove  the  knife 
home — and  was  free.  Some  of  the  notes  escaped 
from  his  left  hand  and  fell  in  the  blood  on  the  floor. 
He  dropped  the  knife  and  snatched  them  up  and 
started  to  fly;  transferred  them  to  his  left  hand, 
and  seized  the  knife  again,  in  his  fright  and  con- 
fusion, but  remembered  himself  and  flung  it  from 
him,  as  being  a  dangerous  witness  to  carry  away 
with  him. 

He  jumped  for  the  stair-foot,  and  closed  the  door 
behind  him;  and  as  he  snatched  his  candle  and  fled 
upward,  the  stillness  of  the  night  was  broken  by  the 
sound  of  urgent  footsteps  approaching  the  house. 
In  another  moment  he  was  in  his  room  and  the  twins 
were  standing  aghast  over  the  body  of  the  murdered 
man! 

Tom  put  on  his  coat,  buttoned  his  hat  under  it, 
threw  on  his  suit  of  girl's  clothes,  dropped  the  veil, 
blew  out  his  light,  locked  the  room  door  by  which 
he  had  just  entered,  taking  the  key,  passed  through 
his  other  door  into  the  back  hall,  locked  that  door 
168 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

and  kept  the  key,  then  worked  his  way  along  in  the 
dark  and  descended  the  back  stairs.  He  was  not 
expecting  to  meet  anybody,  for  all  interest  was 
centered  in  the  other  part  of  the  house,  now;  his 
calculation  proved  correct.  By  the  time  he  was 
passing  through  the  back  yard,  Mrs.  Pratt,  her 
servants,  and  a  dozen  half-dressed  neighbors  had 
joined  the  twins  and  the  dead,  and  accessions  were 
still  arriving  at  the  front  door. 

As  Tom,  quaking  as  with  a  palsy,  passed  out  at  the 
gate,  three  women  came  flying  from  the  house  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  lane.  They  rushed  by  him  and 
in  at  the  gate,  asking  him  what  the  trouble  was 
there,  but  not  waiting  for  an  answer.  Tom  said  to 
himself,  "Those  old  maids  waited  to  dress — they 
did  the  same  thing  the  night  Stevens'  house  burned 
down  next  door."  In  a  few  minutes  he  was  in  the 
haunted  house.  He  lighted  a  candle  and  took  off 
his  girl  clothes.  There  was  blood  on  him  all  down 
his  left  side,  and  his  right  hand  was  red  with  the 
stains  of  the  blood-stained  notes  which  he  had 
crushed  in  it;  but  otherwise  he  was  free  from  this 
sort  of  evidence.  He  cleansed  his  hand  on  the 
straw,  and  cleaned  most  of  the  smut  from  his  face. 
Then  he  burned  his  male  and  female  attire  to  ashes, 
scattered  the  ashes,  and  put  on  a  disguise  proper  for 
a  tramp.  He  blew  out  his  light,  went  below,  and  was 
soon  loafing  down  the  river  road  with  the  intent  to 
borrow  and  use  one  of  Roxy's  devices.  He  found  a 
canoe  and  paddled  off  down-stream,  setting  the  canoe 
adrift  as  dawn  approached,  and  making  his  way  by 
land  to  the  next  village,  where  he  kept  out  of  sight 

12  169 


MARK    TWAIN 

till  a  transient  steamer  came  along,  and  then  took 
deck-passage  for  St.  Louis.  He  was  ill  at  ease  until 
Dawson's  Landing  was  behind  him;  then  he  said  to 
himself,  "All  the  detectives  on  earth  couldn't  trace 
me  now;  there's  not  a  vestige  of  a  clue  left  in  the 
world;  that  homicide  will  take  its  place  with  the 
permanent  mysteries,  and  people  won't  get  done 
trying  to  guess  out  the  secret  of  it  for  fifty  years." 
In  St.  Louis,  next  morning,  he  read  this  brief 
telegram  in  the  papers — dated  at  Dawson's  Landing : 

i  Judge  Driscoll,  an  old  and  respected  citizen,  was  assassinated 

here  about  midnight  by  a  profligate  Italian  nobleman  or  barber 
on  account  of  a  quarrel  growing  out  of  the  recent  election.  The 
assassin  will  probably  be  lynched. 

"One  of  the  twins!"  soliloquized  Tom.  "How 
lucky!  It  is  the  knife  that  has  done  him  this  grace. 
We  never  know  when  fortune  is  trying  to  favor  us. 
I  actually  cursed  Pudd'nhead  Wilson  in  my  heart 
for  putting  it  out  of  my  power  to  sell  that  knife.  I 
take  it  back,  now." 

Tom  was  now  rich  and  independent.  He  arranged 
with  the  planter,  and  mailed  to  Wilson  the  new  bill 
of  sale  which  sold  Roxana  to  herself;  then  he  tele- 
graphed his  Aunt  Pratt : 

Have  seen  the  awful  news  in  the  papers  and  am  almost  pros- 
trated with  grief.  Shall  start  by  packet  to-day.  Try  to  bear 
up  till  I  come. 

When  Wilson  reached  the  house  of  mourning  and 

had  gathered  such  details  as  Mrs.  Pratt  and  the  rest 

of  the  crowd  could  tell  him,  he  took  command  as 

mayor,   and  gave  orders  that  nothing  should  be 

170 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

touched,  but  everything  left  as  it  was  until  Justice 
Robinson  should  arrive  and  take  the.proper  measures 
as  coroner.  He  cleared  everybody  out  of  the  room 
but  the  twins  and  himself.  The  sheriff  soon  arrived 
and  took  the  twins  away  to  jail.  Wilson  told  them 
to  keep  heart,  and  promised  to  do  his  best  in  their 
defense  when  the  case  should  come  to  trial.  Justice 
Robinson  came  presently,  and  with  him  Constable 
Blake.  They  examined  the  room  thoroughly.  They 
found  the  knife  and  the  sheath.  Wilson  noticed 
that  there  were  finger-prints  on  the  knife-handle. 
That  pleased  him,  for  the  twins  had  required  the 
earliest  comers  to  make  a  scrutiny  of  their  hands  and 
clothes,  and  neither  these  people  nor  Wilson  himself 
had  found  any  blood-stains  upon  them.  Could  there 
be  a  possibility  that  the  twins  had  spoken  the 
truth  when  they  said  they  found  the  man  dead 
when  they  ran  into  the  house  in  answer  to  the  cry 
for  help?  He  thought  of  that  mysterious  girl  at 
once.  But  this  was  not  the  sort  of  work  for  a  girl 
to  be  engaged  in.  No  matter;  Tom  DriscolTs  room 
must  be  examined. 

After  the  coroner's  jury  had  viewed  the  body  and 
its  surroundings,  Wilson  suggested  a  search  up-stairs, 
and  he  went  along.  The  jury  forced  an  entrance  to 
Tom's  room,  but  found  nothing,  of  course. 

The  coroner's  jury  found  that  the  homicide  was 
committed  by  Luigi,  and  that  Angelo  was  accessory 
to  it. 

The  town  was  bitter  against  the  unfortunates,  and 
for  the  first  few  days  after  the  murder  they  were  in 
constant  danger  of  being  lynched.  The  grand  jury 
171 


MARK    TWAIN 

presently  indicted  Luigi  for  murder  in  the  first 
degree,  and  Angelo  as  accessory  before  the  fact. 
The  twins  were  transferred  from  the  city  jail  to  the 
county  prison  to  await  trial. 

Wilson  examined  the  finger-marks  on  the  knife- 
handle  and  said  to  himself,  "Neither  of  the  twins 
made  those  marks."  Then  manifestly  there  was 
another  person  concerned,  either  in  his  own  interest 
or  as  hired  assassin. 

But  who  could  it  be?  That,  he  must  try  to  find 
out.  The  safe  was  not  open,  the  cash-box  was 
closed,  and  had  three  thousand  dollars  in  it.  Then 
robbery  was  not  the  motive,  and  revenge  was. 
Where  had  the  murdered  man  an  enemy  except 
Luigi  ?  There  was  but  that  one  person  in  the  world 
with  a  deep  grudge  against  him. 

The  mysterious  girl !  The  girl  was  a  great  trial  to 
Wilson.  If  the  motive  had  been  robbery,  the  girl 
might  answer;  but  there  wasn't  any  girl  that  would 
want  to  take  this  old  man's  life  for  revenge.  He 
had  no  quarrels  with  girls;  he  was  a  gentleman. 

Wilson  had  perfect  tracings  of  the  finger-marks  of 
the  knife-handle;  and  among  his  glass  records  he 
had  a  great  array  of  the  finger-prints  of  women  and 
girls,  collected  during  the  last  fifteen  or  eighteen 
years;  but  he  scanned  them  in  vain,  they  successfully 
withstood  every  test;  among  them  were  no  duplicates 
of  the  prints  on  the  knife. 

The  presence  of  the  knife  on  the  stage  of  the 

murder  was  a  worrying  circumstance  for  Wilson. 

A  week  previously  he  had  as  good  as  admitted  to 

himself  that  he  believed  Luigi  had  possessed  such  a 

172 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

knife,  and  that  he  still  possessed  it  notwithstanding 
his  pretense  that  it  had  been  stolen.  And  now  here 
was  the  knife,  and  with  it  the  twins.  Half  the  town 
had  said  the  twins  were  humbugging  when  they 
claimed  that  they  had  lost  their  knife,  and  now  these 
people  were  joyful,  and  said,  "I  told  you  so!" 

If  their  finger-prints  had  been  on  the  handle — 
but  it  was  useless  to  bother  any  further  about  that; 
the  finger-prints  on  the  handle  were  not  theirs — that 
he  knew  perfectly. 

Wilson  refused  to  suspect  Tom;  for  first,  Torn 
couldn't  murder  anybody — he  hadn't  character 
enough;  secondly,  if  he  could  murder  a  person  he 
wouldn't  select  his  doting  benefactor  and  nearest 
relative;  thirdly,  self-interest  was  in  the  way;  for 
while  the  uncle  lived,  Tom  was  sure  of  a  free  support 
and  a  chance  to  get  the  destroyed  will  revived  again, 
but  with  the  uncle  gone,  that  chance  was  gone,  too. 
It  was  true  the  will  had  really  been  revived,  as  was 
now  discovered,  but  Tom  could  not  have  been  aware 
of  it,  or  he  would  have  spoken  of  it,  in  his  native 
talky,  unsecretive  way.  Finally,  Tom  was  in  St. 
Louis  when  the  murder  was  done,  and  got  the  news 
out  of  the  morning  journals,  as  was  shown  by  his 
telegram  to  his  aunt.  These  speculations  were  unem- 
phasized  sensations  rather  than  articulated  thoughts, 
for  Wilson  would  have  laughed  at  the  idea  of  seri- 
ously connecting  Tom  with  the  murder. 

Wilson  regarded  the  case  of  the  twins  as  des- 
perate— in  fact,  about  hopeless.  For  he  argued  that 
if  a  confederate  was  not  found,  an  enlightened 
Missouri  jury  would  hang  them,  sure ;  if  a  confederate 


MARK    TWAIN 

was  found,  that  would  not  improve  the  matter,  but 
simply  furnish  one  more  person  for  the  sheriff  to 
hang.  Nothing  could  save  the  twins  but  the  dis- 
covery of  a  person  who  did  the  murder  on  his  sole 
personal  account — an  undertaking  which  had  all  the 
aspect  of  the  impossible.  Still,  the  person  who  made 
the  finger-prints  must  be  sought.  The  twins  might 
have  no  case  with  him,  but  they  certainly  would  have 
none  without  him. 

So  Wilson  mooned  around,  thinking,  thinking, 
guessing,  guessing,  day  and  night,  and  arriving 
nowhere.  Whenever  he  ran  across  a  girl  or  a  woman 
he  was  not  acquainted  with,  he  got  her  finger-prints, 
on  one  pretext  or  another;  and  they  always  cost 
him  a  sigh  when  he  got  home,  for  they  never  tallied 
with  the  finger-marks  on  the  knife-handle. 

As  to  the  mysterious  girl,  Tom  swore  he  knew  no 
such  girl,  and  did  not  remember  ever  seeing  a  girl 
wearing  a  dress  like  the  one  described  by  Wilson. 
He  admitted  that  he  did  not  always  lock  his  room, 
and  that  sometimes  the  servants  forgot  to  lock  the 
house  doors;  still,  in  his  opinion  the  girl  must  have 
made  but  few  visits  or  she  would  have  been  dis- 
covered. When  Wilson  tried  to  connect  her  with 
the  stealing-raid,  and  thought  she  might  have  been 
the  old  woman's  confederate,  if  not  the  very  thief 
herself  disguised  as  an  old  woman,  Tom  seemed 
struck,  and  also  much  interested,  and  said  he  would 
keep  a  sharp  eye  out  for  this  person  or  persons, 
although  he  was  afraid  that  she  or  they  would  be  too 
smart  to  venture  again  into  a  town  where  everybody 
would  now  be  on  the  watch  for  a  good  while  to  come. 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

Everybody  was  pitying  Tom,  he  looked  so  quiet 
and  sorrowful,  and  seemed  to  feel  his  great  loss  so 
deeply.  He  was  playing  a  part,  but  it  was  not  all  a 
part.  The  picture  of  his  alleged  uncle,  as  he  had 
last  seen  him,  was  before  him  in  the  dark  pretty 
frequently,  when  he  was  awake,  and  called  again  in 
his  dreams,  when  he  was  asleep.  He  wouldn't  go 
into  the  room  where  the  tragedy  had  happened. 
This  charmed  the  doting  Mrs.  Pratt,  who  realized 
now,  "as  she  had  never  done  before,"  she  said, 
what  a  sensitive  and  delicate  nature  her  darling  had, 
and  how  he  adored  his  poor  uncle. 


CHAPTER  XX 

Even  the  clearest  and  most  perfect  circumstantial  evidence  is 
likely  to  be  at  fault,  after  all,  and  therefore  ought  to  be  received 
with  great  caution.  Take  the  case  of  any  pencil,  sharpened  by 
any  woman:  if  you  have  witnesses,  you  will  find  she  did  it  with 
a  knife;  but  if  you  take  simply  the  aspect  of  the  pencil,  you  will 
say  she  did  it  with  her  teeth. — Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

THE  weeks  dragged  along,  no  friend  visiting  the 
jailed  twins  but  their  counsel  and  Aunt  Patsy 
Cooper,  and  the  day  of  trial  came  at  last — the 
heaviest  day  in  Wilson's  life ;  for  with  all  his  tireless 
diligence  he  had  discovered  no  sign  or  trace  of  the 
missing  confederate.  "Confederate"  was  the  term 
he  had  long  ago  privately  accepted  for  that  person 
— not  as  being  unquestionably  the  right  term,  but  as 
being  at  least  possibly  the  right  one,  though  he  was 
never  able  to  understand  why  the  twins  did  not 
vanish  and  escape,  as  the  confederate  had  done, 
instead  of  remaining  by  the  murdered  man  and  get- 
ting caught  there. 

The  court-house  was  crowded,  of  course,  and 
would  remain  so  to  the  finish,  for  not  only  in  the 
town  itself,  but  in  the  country  for  miles  around,  the 
trial  was  the  one  topic  of  conversation  among  the 
people.  Mrs.  Pratt,  in  deep  mourning,  and  Tom 
with  a  weed  on  his  hat,  had  seats  near  Pembroke 
Howard,  the  public  prosecutor,  and  back  of  them 
176 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

sat  a  great  array  of  friends  of  the  family.  The  twins 
had  but  one  friend  present  to  keep  their  counsel  in 
countenance,  their  poor  old  sorrowing  landlady.  She 
sat  near  Wilson,  and  looked  her  friendliest.  In  the 
"nigger  corner"  sat  Chambers;  also  Roxy,  with 
good  clothes  on,  and  her  bill  of  sale  in  her  pocket. 
It  was  her  most  precious  possession,  and  she  never 
parted  with  it,  day  or  night.  Tom  had  allowed  her 
thirty-five  dollars  a  month  ever  since  he  came  into 
his  property,  and  had  said  that  he  and  she  ought  to 
be  grateful  to  the  twins  for  making  them  rich;  but 
had  roused  such  a  temper  in  her  by  this  speech  that 
he  did  not  repeat  the  argument  afterward.  She 
said  the  old  Judge  had  treated  her  child  a  thousand 
times  better  than  he  deserved,  and  had  never  done 
her  an  unkindness  in  his  life;  so  she  hated  these 
outlandish  devils  for  killing  him,  and  shouldn't  ever 
sleep  satisfied  till  she  saw  them  hanged  for  it.  She 
was  here  to  watch  the  trial,  now,  and  was  going  to 
lift  up  just  one  "hooraw"  over  it  if  the  County 
Judge  put  her  in  jail  a  year  for  it.  She  gave  her 
turbaned  head  a  toss  and  said,  "When  dat  verdic' 
comes,  I's  gwyne  to  lif  dat  roof,  now,  I  tell  you." 

Pembroke  Howard  briefly  sketched  the  State's 
case.  He  said  he  would  show  by  a  chain  of  circum- 
stantial evidence  without  break  or  fault  in  it  any- 
where, that  the  principal  prisoner  at  the  bar  com- 
mitted the  murder;  that  the  motive  was  partly  re- 
venge, and  partly  a  desire  to  take  his  own  life  out 
of  jeopardy,  and  that  his  brother,  by  his  presence, 
was  a  consenting  accessory  to  the  crime;  a  crime 
which  was  the  basest  known  to  the  calendar  of  human 
177 


MARK    TWAIN 

misdeeds — assassination;  that  it  was  conceived  by 
the  blackest  of  hearts  and  consummated  by  the 
cowardliest  of  hands;  a  crime  which  had  broken  a 
loving  sister's  heart,  blighted  the  happiness  of  a 
young  nephew  who  was  as  dear  as  a  son,  brought 
inconsolable  grief  to  many  friends,  and  sorrow  and 
loss  to  the  whole  community.  The  utmost  penalty 
of  the  outraged  law  would  be  exacted,  and  upon  the 
accused,  now  present  at  the  bar,  that  penalty  would 
unquestionably  be  executed.  He  would  reserve 
further  remark  until  his  closing  speech. 

He  was  strongly  moved,  and  so  also  was  the 
whole  house;  Mrs.  Pratt  and  several  other  women 
were  weeping  when  he  sat  down,  and  many  an  eye 
that  was  full  of  hate  was  riveted  upon  the  unhappy 
prisoners. 

Witness  after  witness  was  called  by  the  State,  and 
questioned  at  length;  but  the  cross-questioning  was 
brief.  Wilson  knew  they  could  furnish  nothing 
valuable  for  his  side.  People  were  sorry  for  Pudd'n- 
head;  his  budding  career  would  get  hurt  by  this  trial. 

Several  witnesses  swore  they  heard  Judge  Driscoll 
say  in  his  public  speech  that  the  twins  would  be  able 
to  find  their  lost  knife  again  when  they  needed  it  to 
assassinate  somebody  with.  This  was  not  news,  but 
now  it  was  seen  to  have  been  sorrowfully  prophetic, 
and  a  profound  sensation  quivered  through  the 
hushed  court -room  when  those  dismal  words  were 
repeated. 

The  public  prosecutor  rose  and  said  that  it  was 
within  his  knowledge,  through  a  conversation  held 
with  Judge  Driscoll  on  the  last  day  of  his  life,  that 
178 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

counsel  for  the  defense  had  brought  him  a  challenge 
from  the  person  charged  at  this  bar  with  murder; 
that  he  had  refused  to  fight  with  a  confessed  as- 
sassin— "that  is,  on  the  field  of  honor,"  but  had 
added  significantly,  that  he  would  be  ready  for  him 
elsewhere.  Presumably,  the  person  here  charged 
with  murder  was  warned  that  he  must  kill  or  be  killed 
the  first  time  he  should  meet  Judge  Driscoll.  If 
counsel  for  the  defense  chose  to  let  the  statement 
stand  so,  he  would  not  call  him  to  the  witness-stand. 
Mr.  Wilson  said  he  would  offer  no  denial.  [Mur- 
murs in  the  house — "It  is  getting  worse  and  worse 
for  Wilson's  case."] 

Mrs.  Pratt  testified  that  she  heard  no  outcry,  and 
did  not  know  what  woke  her  up,  unless  it  was  the 
sound  of  rapid  footsteps  approaching  the  front  door. 
She  jumped  up  and  ran  out  in  the  hall  just  as  she 
was,  and  heard  the  footsteps  flying  up  the  front 
steps  and  then  following  behind  her  as  she  ran  to  the 
sitting-room.  There  she  found  the  accused  standing 
over  her  murdered  brother.  [Here  she  broke  down 
and  sobbed.  Sensation  in  the  court.]  Resuming, 
she  said  the  persons  entering  behind  her  were  Mr. 
Rogers  and  Mr.  Buckstone. 

Cross-examined  by  Wilson,  she  said  the  twins  pro- 
claimed their  innocence ;  declared  that  they  had  been 
taking  a  walk,  and  had  hurried  to  the  house  in  re- 
sponse to  a  cry  for  help  which  was  so  loud  and  strong 
that  they  had  heard  it  at  a  considerable  distance; 
that  they  begged  her  and  the  gentlemen  just  men- 
tioned to  examine  their  hands  and  clothes — which 
was  done,  and  no  blood-stains  found. 
179 


MARK    TWAIN 

Confirmatory  evidence  followed  from  Rogers  and 
Buckstone. 

The  finding  of  the  knife  was  verified,  the  advertise- 
ment minutely  describing  it  and  offering  a  reward  for 
it  was  put  in  evidence,  and  its  exact  correspondence 
with  that  description  proved.  Then  followed  a  few 
minor  details,  and  the  case  for  the  State  was  closed. 

Wilson  said  that  he  had  three  witnesses,  the  Misses 
Clarkson,  who  would  testify  that  they  met  a  veiled 
young  woman  leaving  Judge  DriscolTs  premises  by 
the  back  gate  a  few  minutes  after  the  cries  for  help 
were  heard,  and  that  their  evidence,  taken  with  cer- 
tain circumstantial  evidence  which  he  would  call  the 
court's  attention  to,  would  in  his  opinion  convince 
the  court  that  there  was  still  one  person  concerned 
in  this  crime  who  had  not  yet  been  found,  and  also 
that  a  stay  of  proceedings  ought  to  be  granted,  in 
justice  to  his  clients,  until  that  person  should  be  dis- 
covered. As  it  was  late,  he  would  ask  leave  to  defer 
the  examination  of  his  three  witnesses  until  the  next 
morning. 

The  crowd  poured  out  of  the  place  and  went 
flocking  away  in  excited  groups  and  couples,  talking 
the  events  of  the  session  over  with  vivacity  and  con- 
suming interest,  and  everybody  seemed  to  have  had 
a  satisfactory  and  enjoyable  day  except  the  accused, 
their  counsel,  and  their  old-lady  friend.  There  was 
no  cheer  among  these,  and  no  substantial  hope. 

In  parting  with  the  twins  Aunt  Patsy  did  attempt 
a  good  night  with  a  gay  pretense  of  hope  and  cheer 
in  it,  but  broke  down  without  finishing. 

Absolutely  secure  as  Tom  considered  himself  to  be, 
180 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

the  opening  solemnities  of  the  trial  had  nevertheless 
oppressed  him  with  a  vague  uneasiness,  his  being  a 
nature  sensitive  to  even  the  smallest  alarms;  but 
from  the  moment  that  the  poverty  and  weakness  of 
Wilson's  case  lay  exposed  to  the  court,  he  was  com- 
fortable once  more,  even  jubilant.  He  left  the 
court-room  sarcastically  sorry  for  Wilson.  "The 
Clarksons  met  an  unknown  woman  in  the  back 
lane,"  he  said  to  himself — "that  is  his  case!  I'll  give 
him  a  century  to  find  her  in — a  couple  of  them  if  he 
likes.  A  woman  who  doesn't  exist  any  longer,  and 
the  clothes  that  gave  her  her  sex  burnt  up  and  the 
ashes  thrown  away — oh,  certainly,  he'll  find  her 
easy  enough!"  This  reflection  set  him  to  admiring, 
for  the  hundredth  time,  the  shrewd  ingenuities  by 
which  he  had  insured  himself  against  detection — 
more,  against  even  suspicion. 

"Nearly  always  in  cases  like  this  there  is  some 
little  detail  or  other  overlooked,  some  wee  little  track 
or  trace  left  behind,  and  detection  follows;  but  here 
there's  not  even  the  faintest  suggestion  of  a  trace 
left.  No  more  than  a  bird  leaves  when  it  flies 
through  the  air — yes,  through  the  night,  you  may 
say.  The  man  that  can  track  a  bird  through  the  air 
in  the  dark  and  find  that  bird  is  the  man  to  track  me 
out  and  find  the  Judge's  assassin — no  other  need 
apply.  And  that  is  the  job  that  has  been  laid  out 
for  poor  Pudd'nhead  Wilson,  of  all  people  in  the 
world !  Lord,  it  will  be  pathetically  funny  to  see  him 
grubbing  and  groping  after  that  woman  that  don't 
exist,  and  the  right  person  sitting  under  his  very 
nose  all  the  time!"  The  more  he  thought  the 
181 


MARK    TWAIN 

situation  over,  the  more  the  humor  of  it  struck  him. 
Finally  he  said,  "I'll  never  let  him  hear  the  last  of 
that  woman.  Every  time  I  catch  him  in  company, 
to  his  dying  day,  I'll  ask  him  in  the  guileless  affec- 
tionate way  that  used  to  gravel  him  so  when  I 
inquired  how  his  unborn  law  business  was  coming 
along,  'Got  on  her  track  yet — hey,  Pudd'nhead?'" 
He  wanted  to  laugh,  but  that  would  not  have 
answered;  there  were  people  about,  and  he  was 
mourning  for  his  uncle.  He  made  up  his  mind  that 
it  would  be  good  entertainment  to  look  in  on  Wilson 
that  night  and  watch  him  worry  over  his  barren 
law  case  and  goad  him  with  an  exasperating  word  or 
two  of  sympathy  and  commiseration  now  and  then. 

Wilson  wanted  no  supper,  he  had  no  appetite. 
He  got  out  all  the  finger-prints  of  girls  and  women 
in  his  collection  of  records  and  pored  gloomily  over 
them  an  hour  or  more,  trying  to  convince  himself 
that  that  troublesome  girl's  marks  were  there  some- 
where and  had  been  overlooked.  But  it  was  not  so. 
He  drew  back  his  chair,  clasped  his  hands  over  his 
head,  and  gave  himself  up  to  dull  and  arid  musings. 

Tom  Driscoll  dropped  in,  an  hour  after  dark,  and 
said  with  a  pleasant  laugh  as  he  took  a  seat: 

"Hello,  we've  gone  back  to  the  amusements  of 
our  days  of  neglect  and  obscurity  for  consolation, 
have  we?"  and  he  took  up  one  of  the  glass  strips 
and  held  it  against  the  light  to  inspect  it.  "Come, 
cheer  up,  old  man;  there's  no  use  in  losing  your 
grip  and  going  back  to  this  child's-play  merely  be- 
cause this  big  sunspot  is  drifting  across  your  shiny 
new  disk.  It  '11  pass,  and  you'll  be  all  right  again," 
182 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

— and  he  laid  the  glass  down.  "Did  you  think 
you  could  win  always?" 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Wilson,  with  a  sigh,  "I  didn't 
expect  that,  but  I  can't  believe  Luigi  killed  your 
uncle,  and  I  feel  very  sorry  for  him.  It  makes  me 
blue.  And  you  would  feel  as  I  do,  Tom,  if  you 
were  not  prejudiced  against  those  young  fellows." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  and  Tom's  coun- 
tenance darkened,  for  his  memory  reverted  to  his 
kicking;  "I  owe  them  no  good  will,  considering 
the  brunette  one's  treatment  of  me  that  night. 
Prejudice  or  no  prejudice,  Pudd'nhead,  I  don't  like 
them,  and  when  they  get  their  deserts  you're  not 
going  to  find  me  sitting  on  the  mourner's  bench." 

He  took  up  another  strip  of  glass,  and  exclaimed: 

"Why,  here's  old  Roxy's  label!  Are  you  going 
to  ornament  the  royal  palaces  with  nigger  paw- 
marks,  too?  By  the  date  here,  I  was  seven  months 
old  when  this  was  done,  and  she  was  nursing  me  and 
her  little  nigger  cub.  There's  a  line  straight  across 
her  thumb-print.  How  comes  that?"  and  Tom  held 
out  the  piece  of  glass  to  Wilson. 

"That  is  common,"  said  the  bored  man,  wearily. 
"Scar  of  a  cut  or  a  scratch,  usually" — and  he  took 
the  strip  of  glass  indifferently,  and  raised  it  toward 
the  lamp. 

All  the  blood  sunk  suddenly  out  of  his  face;  his 
hand  quaked,  and  he  gazed  at  the  polished  surface 
before  him  with  the  glassy  stare  of  a  corpse. 

"Great  Heavens,  what's  the  matter  with  you, 
Wilson?  Are  you  going  to  faint?" 

Tom  sprang  for  a  glass  of  water  and  offered 
183 


MARK    TWAIN 

it,  but  Wilson  shrank  shuddering  from  him  and 
said : 

"No,  no! — take  it  away!"  His  breast  was  rising 
and  falling,  and  he  moved  his  head  about  in  a  dull 
and  wandering  way,  like  a  person  who  has  been 
stunned.  Presently  he  said,  "I  shall  feel  better 
when  I  get  to  bed;  I  have  been  overwrought  to-day; 
yes,  and  overworked  for  many  days." 

"Then  I'll  leave  you  and  let  you  get  to  your  rest. 
Good  night,  old  man."  But  as  Tom  went  out  he 
couldn't  deny  himself  a  small  parting  gibe:  "Don't 
take  it  so  hard ;  a  body  can't  win  every  time ;  you'll 
hang  somebody  yet." 

Wilson  muttered  to  himself,  "It  is  no  lie  to  say  I 
am  sorry  I  have  to  begin  with  you,  miserable  dog 
though  you  are!" 

He  braced  himself  up  with  a  glass  of  cold  whisky, 
and  went  to  work  again.  He  did  not  compare  the 
new  finger-marks  unintentionally  left  by  Tom  a  few 
minutes  before  on  Roxy's  glass  with  the  tracings  of 
the  marks  left  on  the  knife-handle,  there  being  no 
need  of  that  (for  his  trained  eye),  but  busied  him- 
self with  another  matter,  muttering  from  time  to 
time,  "Idiot  that  I  was! — nothing  but  a  girl  would 
do  me — a  man  in  girl's  clothes  never  occurred  to 
me."  First,  he  hunted  out  the  plate  containing  the 
finger-prints  made  by  Tom  when  he  was  twelve 
years  old,  and  laid  it  by  itself;  then  he  brought  forth 
the  marks  made  by  Tom's  baby  fingers  when  he  was 
a  suckling  of  seven  months,  and  placed  these  two 
plates  with  the  one  containing  this  subject's  newly 
(and  unconsciously)  made  record. 
184 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

"Now  the  series  is  complete,"  he  said  with  satis- 
faction, and  sat  down  to  inspect  these  things  and 
enjoy  them. 

But  his  enjoyment  was  brief.  He  stared  a  con- 
siderable time  at  the  three  strips,  and  seemed 
stupefied  with  astonishment.  At  last  he  put  them 
down  and  said,  "I  can't  make  it  out  at  all — hang 
it,  the  baby's  don't  tally  with  the  others!" 

He  walked  the  floor  for  half  an  hour  puzzling  over 
his  enigma,  then  he  hunted  out  two  other  glass 
plates. 

He  sat  down  and  puzzled  over  these  things  a  good 
while,  but  kept  muttering,  "It's  no  use;  I  can't 
understand  it.  They  don't  tally  right,  and  yet  I'll 
swear  the  names  and  dates  are  right,  and  so  of  course 
they  ought  to  tally.  I  never  labeled  one  of  these 
things  carelessly  in  my  life.  There  is  a  most  ex- 
traordinary mystery  here." 

He  was  tired  out,  now,  and  his  brains  were  begin- 
ning to  clog.  He  said  he  would  sleep  himself  fresh, 
and  then  see  what  he  could  do  with  this  riddle.  He 
slept  through  a  troubled  and  unrestful  hour,  then 
unconsciousness  began  to  shred  away,  and  presently 
he  rose  drowsily  to  a  sitting  posture.  "Now  what 
was  that  dream?"  he  said,  trying  to  recall  it;  "what 
was  that  dream? — it  seemed  to  unravel  that  puz — " 

He  landed  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  at  a  bound, 
without  finishing  the  sentence,  and  ran  and  turned 
up  his  lights  and  seized  his  "records."  He  took  a 
single  swift  glance  at  them  and  cried  out: 

"It's  so!  Heavens,  what  a  revelation!  And  fo? 
twenty- three  years  no  man  has  ever  suspected  it!" 
13  l8S 


CHAPTER  XXI 

He  is  useless  on  top  of  the  ground;  he  ought  to  be  undetf  it, 
inspiring  the  cabbages. — Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

April  i.    This  is  the  day  upon  which  we  are  reminded  of 
what  we  are  on  the  other  three  hundred  and  sixty-four. 

— Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

WILSON  put  on  enough  clothes  for  business 
purposes  and  went  to  work  under  a  high 
pressure  of  steam.  He  was  awake  all  over.  All 
sense  of  weariness  had  been  swept  away  by  the 
invigorating  refreshment  of  the  great  and  hopeful 
discovery  which  he  had  made.  He  made  fine  and 
accurate  reproductions  of  a  number  of  his  "records," 
and  then  enlarged  them  on  a  scale  of  ten  to  one 
with  his  pantograph.  He  did  these  pantograph  en- 
largements on  sheets  of  white  cardboard,  and  made 
each  individual  line  of  the  bewildering  maze  of 
whorls  or  curves  or  loops  which  constituted  the 
"pattern"  of  a  "record"  stand  out  bold  and  black 
by  reinforcing  it  with  ink.  To  the  untrained  eye  the 
collection  of  delicate  originals  made  by  the  human 
finger  on  the  glass  plates  looked  about  alike;  but 
when  enlarged  ten  times  they  resembled  the  mark- 
ings of  a  block  of  wood  that  has  been  sawed' across 
the  grain,  and  the  dullest  eye  could  detect  at  a 
glance,  and  at  a  distance  of  many  feet,  that  no  two 
186 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

of  the  patterns  were  alike.  When  Wilson  had  at 
last  finished  his  tedious  and  difficult  work,  he  ar- 
ranged its  results  according  to  a  plan  in  which  a  pro- 
gressive order  and  sequence  was  a  principal  feature; 
then  he  added  to  the  batch  several  pantograph  en- 
largements which  he  had  made  from  time  to  time  in 
bygone  years. 

The  night  was  spent  and  the  day  well  advanced, 
now.  By  the  time  he  had  snatched  a  trifle  of  break- 
fast it  was  nine  o'clock,  and  the  court  was  ready  to 
begin  its  sitting.  He  was  in  his  place  twelve  min- 
utes later  with  his  "records." 

Tom  Driscoll  caught  a  slight  glimpse  of  the  records, 
and  nudged  his  nearest  friend  and  said,  with  a  wink, 
' '  Pudd'nhead's  got  a  rare  eye  to  business — thinks  that 
as  long  as  he  can't  win  his  case  it's  at  least  a  noble 
good  chance  to  advertise  his  palace-window  decora- 
tions without  any  expense."  Wilson  was  informed 
that  his  witnesses  had  been  delayed,  but  would  ar- 
rive presently;  but  he  rose  and  said  he  should  prob- 
ably not  have  occasion  to  make  use  of  their  testi- 
mony. [An  amused  murmur  ran  through  the  room 
— "It's  a  clean  backdown!  he  gives  up  without  hit- 
ting a  lick!"]  Wilson  continued — "I  have  other 
testimony — and  better.  [This  compelled  interest, 
and  evoked  murmurs  of  surprise  that  had  a  de- 
tectable ingredient  of  disappointment  in  them.]  If 
I  seem  to  be  springing  this  evidence  upon  the  court, 
I  offer  as  my  justification  for  this,  that  I  did  not  dis- 
cover its  existence  until  late  last  night,  and  have 
been  engaged  in  examining  and  classifying  it  ever 
since,  until  half  an  hour  ago.  I  shall  offer  it  pres- 
187 


MARK    TWAIN 

ently;  but  first  I  wish  to  say  a  few  preliminary 
words. 

"May  it  please  the  court,  the  claim  given  the 
front  place,  the  claim  most  persistently  urged,  the 
claim  most  strenuously  and  I  may  even  say  aggres- 
sively and  defiantly  insisted  upon  by  the  prosecution, 
is  this — that  the  person  whose  hand  left  the  blood- 
stained finger-prints  upon  the  handle  of  the  Indian 
knife  is  the  person  who  committed  the  murder." 
Wilson  paused,  during  several  moments,  to  give  im- 
pressiveness  to  what  he  was  about  to  say,  and  then 
added  tranquilly,  "We  grant  that  claim," 

It  was  an  electrical  surprise.  No  one  was  pre- 
pared for  such  an  admission.  A  buzz  of  astonish- 
ment rose  on  all  sides,  and  people  were  heard  to 
intimate  that  the  overworked  lawyer  had  lost  his 
mind.  Even  the  veteran  judge,  accustomed  as  he 
was  to  legal  ambushes  and  masked  batteries  in 
criminal  procedure,  was  not  sure  that  his  ears  were 
not  deceiving  him,  and  asked  counsel  what  it  was  he 
had  said.  Howard's  impassive  face  betrayed  no 
sign,  but  his  attitude  and  bearing  lost  something  of 
their  careless  confidence  for  a  moment.  Wilson 
resumed: 

"We  not  only  grant  that  claim,  but  we  welcome 
it  and  strongly  indorse  it.  Leaving  that  matter  for 
the  present,  we  will  now  proceed  to  consider  other 
points  in  the  case  which  we  propose  to  establish  by 
evidence,  and  shall  include  that  one  in  the  chain  in 
its  proper  place." 

He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  try  a  few  hardy 
guesses,  in  mapping  out  his  theory  of  the  origin  and 
188 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

motive  of  the  murder — guesses  designed  to  fill  up 
gaps  in  it — guesses  which  could  help  if  they  hit, 
and  would  probably  do  no  harm  if  they  didn't. 

"To  my  mind,  certain  circumstances  of  the  case 
before  the  court  seem  to  suggest  a  motive  for  the 
homicide  quite  different  from  the  one  insisted  on  by 
the  State.  It  is  my  conviction  that  the  motive  was 
not  revenge,  but  robbery.  It  has  been  urged  that 
the  presence  of  the  accused  brothers  in  that  fatal 
room,  just  after  notification  that  one  of  them  must 
take  the  life  of  Judge  Driscoll  or  lose  his  own  the 
moment  the  parties  should  meet,  clearly  signifies 
that  the  natural  instinct  of  self-preservation  moved 
my  clients  to  go  there  secretly  and  save  Count  Luigi 
by  destroying  his  adversary. 

"Then  why  did  they  stay  there,  after  the  deed 
was  done?  Mrs.  Pratt  had  time,  although  she  did 
not  hear  the  cry  for  help,  but  woke  up  some  mo- 
ments later,  to  run  to  that  room — and  there  she 
found  these  men  standing  and  making  no  effort  to 
escape.  If  they  were  guilty,  they  ought  to  have 
been  running  out  of  the  house  at  the  same  time  that 
she  was  running  to  that  room.  If  they  had  had 
such  a  strong  instinct  toward  self-preservation  as  to 
move  them  to  kill  that  unarmed  man,  what  had 
become  of  it  now,  when  it  should  have  been  more 
alert  than  ever?  Would  any  of  us  have  remained 
there?  Let  us  not  slander  our  intelligence  to  that 
degree. 

"Much  stress  has  been  laid  upon  the  fact  that  the 
accused  offered  a  very  large  reward  for  the  knife 
with  which  this  murder  was  done;  that  no  thief 
189 


MARK    TWAIN 

came  forward  to  claim  that  extraordinary  reward; 
that  the  latter  fact  was  good  circumstantial  evidence 
that  the  claim  that  the  knife  had  been  stolen  was  a 
vanity  and  a  fraud;  that  these  details  taken  in  con- 
nection with  the  memorable  and  apparently  pro- 
phetic speech  of  the  deceased  concerning  that  knife, 
and  the  final  discovery  of  that  very  knife  in  the  fatal 
room  where  no  living  person  was  found  present  with 
the  slaughtered  man  but  the  owner  of  the  knife  and 
his  brother,  form  an  indestructible  chain  of  evidence 
which  fixes  the  crime  upon  those  unfortunate 
strangers. 

"But  I  shall  presently  ask  to  be  sworn,  and  shall 
testify  that  there  was  a  large  reward  offered  for  the 
thief,  also;  that  it  was  offered  secretly  and  not  ad- 
vertised ;  that  this  fact  was  indiscreetly  mentioned — 
or  at  least  tacitly  admitted — in  what  was  supposed 
to  be  safe  circumstances,  but  may  not  have  been. 
The  thief  may  have  been  present  himself.  [Tom 
Driscoll  had  been  looking  at  the  speaker,  but  dropped 
his  eyes  at  this  point.]  In  that  case  he  would  retain 
the  knife  in  his  possession,  not  daring  to  offer  it  for 
sale,  or  for  pledge  in  a  pawnshop.  [There  was  a 
nodding  of  heads  among  the  audience  by  way  of 
admission  that  this  was  not  a  bad  stroke.]  I  shall 
prove  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  jury  that  there  was 
a  person  in  Judge  Driscoll's  room  several  minutes 
before  the  accused  entered  it.  [This  produced  a 
strong  sensation ;  the  last  drowsy -head  in  the  court- 
room roused  up  now,  and  made  preparation  to  listen.] 
If  it  shall  seem  necessary,  I  will  prove  by  the  Misses 
Clarkson  that  they  met  a  veiled  person — ostensibly 
190 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

a  woman — coming  out  of  the  back  gate  a  few  min- 
utes after  the  cry  for  help  was  heard.  This  person 
was  not  a  woman,  but  a  man  dressed  in  woman's 
clothes."  Another  sensation.  Wilson  had  his  eye 
on  Tom  when  he  hazarded  this  guess,  to  see  what 
effect  it  would  produce.  He  was  satisfied  with  the 
result,  and  said  to  himself,  "It  was  a  success — he's 
hit!" 

"The  object  of  that  person  in  that  house  was 
robbery,  not  murder.  It  is  true  that  the  safe  was 
not  open,  but  there  was  an  ordinary  tin  cash-box  on 
the  table,  with  three  thousand  dollars  in  it.  It  is 
easily  supposable  that  the  thief  was  concealed  in  the 
house;  that  he  knew  of  this  box,  and  of  its  owner's 
habit  of  counting  its  contents  and  arranging  his 
accounts  at  night — if  he  had  that  habit,  which  I  do 
not  assert,  of  course; — that  he  tried  to  take  the  box 
while  its  owner  slept,  but  made  a  noise  and  was 
seized,  and  had  to  use  the  knife  to  save  himself  from 
capture;  and  that  he  fled  without  his  booty  because 
he  heard  help  coming. 

"I  have  now  done  with  my  theory,  and  will 
proceed  to  the  evidences  by  which  I  propose  to  try 
to  prove  its  soundness."  Wilson  took  up  several  of 
his  strips  of  glass.  When  the  audience  recognized 
these  familiar  mementoes  of  Pudd'nhead's  old-time 
childish  "puttering"  and  folly,  the  tense  and  funereal 
interest  vanished  out  of  their  faces,  and  the  house 
burst  into  volleys  of  relieving  and  refreshing  laughter, 
and  Tom  chirked  and  joined  in  the  fun  himself; 
but  Wilson  was  apparently  not  disturbed.  He  ar- 
ranged his  records  on  the  table  before  him,  and  said: 
191 


MARK    TWAIN 

"I  beg  the  indulgence  of  the  court  while  I  make 
a  few  remarks  in  explanation  of  some  evidence  which 
I  am  about  to  introduce,  and  which  I  shall  presently 
ask  to  be  allowed  to  verify  under  oath  on  the  witness- 
stand.  Every  human  being  carries  with  him  from 
his  cradle  to  his  grave  certain  physical  marks  which 
do  not  change  their  character,  and  by  which  he 
can  always  be  identified — and  that  without  shade 
of  doubt  or  question.  These  marks  are  his  signature, 
his  physiological  autograph,  so  to  speak,  and  this 
autograph  cannot  be  counterfeited,  nor  can  he  dis- 
guise it  or  hide  it  away,  nor  can  it  become  illegible 
by  the  wear  and  mutations  of  time.  This  signature 
is  not  his  face — age  can  change  that  beyond  recog- 
nition; it  is  not  his  hair,  for  that  can  fall  out;  it  is 
not  his  height,  for  duplicates  of  that  exist;  it  is  not 
his  form,  for  duplicates  of  that  exist  also,  whereas 
this  signature  is  each  man's  very  own — there  is  no 
duplicate  of  it  among  the  swarming  populations 
of  the  globe!  [The  audience  were  interested  once 
more.] 

"This  autograph  consists  of  the  delicate  lines  or 
corrugations  with  which  Nature  marks  the  insides  of 
the  hands  and  the  soles  of  the  feet.  If  you  will  look 
at  the  balls  of  your  fingers  —  you  that  have  very 
sharp  eyesight — you  will  observe  that  these  dainty 
curving  lines  lie  close  together,  like  those  tl-\t  indi- 
cate the  borders  of  oceans  in  maps,  and  that  they 
form  various  clearly  defined  patterns,  such  as  arches, 
circles,  long  curves,  whorls,  etc.,  and  that  these 
patterns  differ  on  the  different  fingers.  [Every  man 
in  the  room  had  his  hand  up  to  the  light,  now,  and 
192 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

his  head  canted  to  one  side,  and  was  minutely 
scrutinizing  the  balls  of  his  fingers;  there  were 
whispered  ejaculations  of  "Why,  it's  so — I  never 
noticed  that  before!"]  The  patterns  on  the  right 
hand  are  not  the  same  as  those  on  the  left.  [Ejacu- 
lations of  "Why,  that's  so,  too!"]  Taken  finger 
for  ringer,  your  patterns  differ  from  your  neigh- 
bor's. [Comparisons  were  made  all  over  the  house 
— even  the  judge  and  jury  were  absorbed  in  this 
curious  work.]  The  patterns  of  a  twin's  right  hand 
are  not  the  same  as  those  on  his  left.  One  twin's 
patterns  are  never  the  same  as  his  fellow-twin's  pat- 
terns— the  jury  will  find  that  the  patterns  upon  the 
finger-balls  of  the  accused  follow  this  rule.  [An 
examination  of  the  twins'  hands  was  begun  at  once.] 
You  have  often  heard  of  twins  who  were  so  exactly 
alike  that  when  dressed  alike  their  own  parents  could 
not  tell  them  apart.  Yet  there  was  never  a  twin 
born  into  this  world  that  did  not  carry  from  birth  to 
death  a  sure  identifier  in  this  mysterious  and  marvel- 
ous natal  autograph.  That  once  known  to  you,  his 
fellow-twin  could  never  personate  him  and  deceive 
you." 

Wilson  stopped  and  stood  silent.  Inattention 
dies  a  quick  and  sure  death  when  a  speaker  does 
that.  The  stillness  gives  warning  that  something  is 
coming  All  palms  and  finger-balls  went  down, 
now,  all  slouching  forms  straightened,  all  heads 
came  up,  all  eyes  were  fastened  upon  Wilson's  face. 
He  waited  yet  one,  two,  three  moments,  to  let  his 
pause  complete  and  perfect  its  spell  upon  the  house; 
then,  when  through  the  profound  hush  he  could  hear 


MARK    TWAIN 

the  ticking  of  the  clock  on  the  wall,  he  put  out  his 
hand  and  took  the  Indian  knife  by  the  blade  and 
held  it  aloft  where  all  could  see  the  sinister  spots 
upon  its  ivory  handle;  then  he  said,  in  a  level  and 
passionless  voice: 

"Upon  this  haft  stands  the  assassin's  natal  auto- 
graph, written  in  the  blood  of  that  helpless  and  un- 
offending old  man  who  loved  you  and  whom  you  all 
loved.  There  is  but  one  man  in  the  whole  earth 
whose  hand  can  duplicate  that  crimson  sign" — he 
paused  and  raised  his  eyes  to  the  pendulum  swinging 
back  and  forth — "and  please  God  we  will  produce 
that  man  in  this  room  before  the  clock  strikes  noon!" 

Stunned,  distraught,  unconscious  of  its  own  move- 
ment, the  house  half  rose,  as  if  expecting  to  see  the 
murderer  appear  at  the  door,  and  a  breeze  of  mut- 
tered ejaculations  swept  the  place.  "Order  in  the 
court! — sit  down!"  This  from  the  sheriff.  He  was 
obeyed,  and  quiet  reigned  again.  Wilson  stole  a 
glance  at  Tom,  and  said  to  himself,  "He  is  flying 
signals  of  distress,  now;  even  people  who  despise 
him  are  pitying  him;  they  think  this  is  a  hard  ordeal 
for  a  young  fellow  who  has  lost  his  benefactor  by  so 
cruel  a  stroke — and  they  are  right."  He  resumed 
his  speech. 

"For  more  than  twenty  years  I  have  amused  my 
compulsory  leisure  with  collecting  these  curious 
physical  signatures  in  this  town.  At  my  house  I 
have  hundreds  upon  hundreds  of  them.  Each  and 
every  one  is  labeled  with  name  and  date;  not 
labeled  the  next  day  or  even  the  next  hour,  but  in 
the  very  minute  that  the  impression  was  taken. 
194 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

When  I  go  upon  the  witness-stand  I  will  repeat 
under  oath  the  things  which  I  am  now  saying.  I 
have  the  finger-prints  of  the  court,  the  sheriff,  and 
every  member  of  the  jury.  There  is  hardly  a  person 
in  this  room,  white  or  black,  whose  natal  signature  I 
cannot  produce,  and  not  one  of  them  can  so  disguise 
himself  that  I  cannot  pick  him  out  from  a  multitude 
of  his  fellow-creatures  and  unerringly  identify  him 
by  his  hands.  And  if  he  and  I  should  live  to  be  a 
hundred  I  could  still  do  it.  [The  interest  of  the 
audience  was  steadily  deepening  now.] 

' '  I  have  studied  some  of  these  signatures  so  much 
that  I  know  them  as  well  as  the  bank  cashier  knows 
the  autograph  of  his  oldest  customer.  While  I  turn 
my  back  now,  I  beg  that  several  persons  will  be  so 
good  as  to  pass  their  fingers  through  their  hair,  and 
then  press  them  upon  one  of  the  panes  of  the  window 
near  the  jury,  and  that  among  them  the  accused  may 
set  their  finger-marks.  Also,  I  beg  that  these  ex- 
perimenters, or  others,  will  set  their  finger-marks 
upon  another  pane,  and  add  again  the  marks  of  the 
accused,  but  not  placing  them  in  the  same  order  or 
relation  to  the  other  signatures  as  before — for,  by 
one  chance  in  a  million,  a  person  might  happen 
upon  the  right  marks  by  pure  guesswork  once,  there- 
fore I  wish  to  be  tested  twice." 

He  turned  his  back,  and  the  two  panes  were 
quickly  covered  with  delicately  lined  oval  spots,  but 
visible  only  to  such  persons  as  could  get  a  dark  back- 
ground for  them — the  foliage  of  a  tree,  outside,  for 
instance.  Then,  upon  call,  Wilson  went  to  the 
window,  made  his  examination,  and  said: 


MARK     TWAIN 

"This  is  Count  Luigi's  right  hand;  this  one,  three 
signatures  below,  is  his  left.  Here  is  Count  Angelo's 
right;  down  here  is  his  left.  Now  for  the  other 
pane:  here  and  here  are  Count  Luigi's,  here  and 
here  are  his  brother's."  He  faced  about.  "Am 
I  right?" 

A  deafening  explosion  of  applause  was  the  answer. 
The  Bench  said: 

"This  certainly  approaches  the  miraculous!" 

Wilson  turned  to  the  window  again  and  remarked, 
pointing  with  his  finger: 

"This  is  the  signature  of  Mr.  Justice  Robinson 
[Applause.]  This,  of  Constable  Blake.  [Applause.] 
This,  of  John  Mason,  juryman.  [Applause.]  This, 
of  the  sheriff.  [Applause.]  I  cannot  name  the 
others,  but  I  have  them  all  at  home,  named  and 
dated,  and  could  identify  them  all  by  my  finger- 
print records." 

He  moved  to  his  place  through  a  storm  of  applause 
— which  the  sheriff  stopped,  and  also  made  the  peo- 
ple sit  down,  for  they  were  all  standing  and  strug- 
gling to  see,  of  course.  Court,  jury,  sheriff,  and  ev- 
erybody had  been  too  absorbed  in  observing  Wilson's 
performance  to  attend  to  the  audience  earlier. 

"Now,  then,"  said  Wilson,  "I  have  here  the 
natal  autographs  of  two  children — thrown  up  to  ten 
times  the  natural  size  by  the  pantograph,  so  that 
any  one  who  can  see  at  all  can  tell  the  markings 
apart  at  a  glance.  We  will  call  the  children  A  and 
B.  Here  are  A 's  finger-marks,  taken  at  the  age  of 
five  months.  Here  they  are  again,  taken  at  seven 
months.  [Tom  started.]  They  are  alike,  you  see. 
196 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

Here  are  B's  at  five  months,  and  also  at  seven 
months.  They,  too,  exactly  copy  each  other,  but 
the  patterns  are  quite  different  from  A's,  you  ob- 
serve. I  shall  refer  to  these  again  presently,  but 
we  will  turn  them  face  down,  now. 

"Here,  thrown  up  ten  sizes,  are  the  natal  auto- 
graphs of  the  two  persons  who  are  here  before  you 
accused  of  murdering  Judge  Driscoll.  I  made  these 
pantographic  copies  last  night,  and  will  so  swear 
when  I  go  upon  the  witness-stand.  I  ask  the  jury 
to  compare  them  with  the  finger-marks  of  the  ac- 
cused upon  the  window-panes,  and  tell  the  court  il 
they  are  the  same." 

He  passed  a  powerful  magnifying-glass  to  the 
foreman. 

One  juryman  after  another  took  the  cardboard 
and  the  glass  and  made  the  comparison.  Then  the 
foreman  said  to  the  judge: 

"Your  honor,  we  are  all  agreed  that  they  are 
identical. ' ' 

Wilson  said  to  the  foreman : 

"Please  turn  that  cardboard  face  down,  and  take 
this  one,  and  compare  it  searchingly  by  the  mag- 
nifier, with  the  fatal  signature  upon  the  knife-handle, 
and  report  your  finding  to  the  court." 

Again  the  jury  made  minute  examinations,  and 
again  reported: 

"We  find  them  to  be  exactly  identical,  your 
honor." 

Wilson  turned  toward  the  counsel  for  the  prosecu- 
tion, and  there  was  a  clearly  recognizable  note  of 
warning  in  his  voice  when  he  said: 
197 


MARK    TWAIN 

"May  it  please  the  court,  the  State  has  claimed, 
strenuously  and  persistently,  that  the  blood-stained 
finger-prints  upon  that  knife-handle  were  left  there 
by  the  assassin  of  Judge  Driscoll.  You  have  heard 
us  grant  that  claim,  and  welcome  it."  He  turned  to 
the  jury:  "Compare  the  fir.^r-prints  of  the  accused 
with  the  finger-prints  left  by  the  assassin — and  report. ' ' 

The  comparison  began.  As  it  proceeded,  all 
movement  and  all  sound  ceased,  and  the  deep  silence 
of  an  absorbed  and  waiting  suspense  settled  upon  the 
house;  and  when  at  last  the  words  came — 

"  They  do  not  even  resemble,"  a  thunder-crash  of 
applause  followed  and  the  house  sprang  to  its  feet, 
but  was  quickly  repressed  by  official  force  and 
brought  to  order  again.  Tom  was  altering  his  posi- 
tion every  few  minutes,  now,  but  none  of  his  changes 
brought  repose  nor  any  small  trifle  of  comfort. 
When  the  house's  attention  was  become  fixed  once 
more,  Wilson  said  gravely,  indicating  the  twins  with 
a  gesture: 

"These  men  are  innocent — I  have  no  further  con- 
cern with  them.  [Another  outbreak  of  applause 
began,  but  was  promptly  checked.]  We  will  now 
proceed  to  find  the  guilty.  [Tom's  eyes  were 
starting  from  their  sockets — yes,  it  was  a  cruel  day 
for  the  bereaved  youth,  everybody  thought.]  We 
will  return  to  the  infant  autographs  of  A  and  B.  I 
will  ask  the  jury  to  take  these  large  pantograph  fac- 
similes of  A  Js  marked  five  months  and  seven  months. 
Do  they  tally?" 

The  foreman  responded: 

"Perfectly." 

198 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

"Now  examine  this  pantograph,  taken  at  eight 
months,  and  also  marked  A.  Does  it  tally  with  the 
other  two?" 

The  surprised  response  was: 

"No — they  differ  widely!" 

"You  are  quite  right.  Now  take  these  two  panto- 
graphs of  B's  autograph,  marked  five  months  and 
seven  months.  Do  they  tally  with  each  other?" 

' '  Yes — perfectly. ' ' 

"Take  this  third  pantograph  marked  B,  eight 
months.  Does  it  tally  with  B's  other  two?" 

11  By  no  means!" 

"Do  you  know  how  to  account  for  those  strange 
discrepancies?  I  will  tell  you.  For  a  purpose  un- 
known to  us,  but  probably  a  selfish  one,  somebody 
changed  those  children  in  the  cradle." 

This  produced  a  vast  sensation,  naturally;  Roxana 
was  astonished  at  this  admirable  guess,  but  not  dis- 
turbed by  it.  To  guess  the  exchange  was  one  thing, 
to  guess  who  did  it  quite  another.  Pudd'nhead 
Wilson  could  do  wonderful  things,  no  doubt,  but  he 
couldn't  do  impossible  ones.  Safe?  She  was  per- 
fectly safe.  She  smiled  privately. 

"Between  the  ages  of  seven  months  and  eight 
months  those  children  were  changed  in  the  cradle" 
— he  made  one  of  his  effect-collecting  pauses,  and 
added — "and  the  person  who  did  it  is  in  this  house!" 

Roxy's  pulses  stood  still!  The  house  was  thrilled 
as  with  an  electric  shock,  and  the  people  half  rose  as 
if  to  seek  a  glimpse  of  the  person  who  had  made 
that  exchange.  Tom  was  growing  limp;  the  life 
seemed  oozing  out  of  him.  Wilson  resumed : 
199 


MARK    TWAIN 

"A  was  put  into  B's  cradle  in  the  nursery;  B 
was  transferred  to  the  kitchen  and  became  a  negro 
and  a  slave  [Sensation — confusion  of  angry  ejacu- 
lations]— but  within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  he  will 
stand  before  you  white  and  ffee!  [Burst  of  ap- 
plause, checked  by  the  officers.]  From  seven 
months  onward  until  now,  A  has  still  been  a  usurper, 
and  in  my  finger-record  he  bears  B's  name.  Here  is 
his  pantograph  at  the  age  of  twelve.  Compare  it 
with  the  assassin's  signature  upon  the  knife-handle. 
Do  they  tally?" 

The  foreman  answered: 

11  To  the  minutest  detail!" 

Wilson  said,  solemnly: 

"The  murderer  of  your  friend  and  mine — York 
Driscoll  of  the  generous  hand  and  the  kindly  spirit — 
sits  in  among  you.  Valet  de  Chambre,  negro  and  slave 
— falsely  called  Thomas  a  Becket  Driscoll — make  upon 
Lhe  window  the  finger-prints  that  will  hang  you!" 

Tom  turned  his  ashen  face  imploringly  toward  the 
speaker,  made  some  impotent  movement  with  his 
white  lips,  then  slid  limp  and  lifeless  to  the  floor. 

Wilson  broke  the  awed  silence  with  the  words: 

"There  is  no  need.     He  has  confessed." 

Roxy  flung  herself  upon  her  knees,  covered  her 
face  with  her  hands,  and  out  through  her  sobs  the 
words  struggled: 

"De  Lord  have  mercy  on  me,  po'  misable  sinner 
dat  I  is!" 

The  clock  struck  twelve. 

The  court  rose;  the  new  prisoner,  handcuffed, 
was  removed. 

200 


MAKE  THE  FINGER-PRINTS  THAT  .WILL  HANG  YOU 


CONCLUSION 

It  is  often  the  case  that  the  man  who  can't  tell  a  lie  thinks 
he  is  the  best  judge  of  one. — Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

October  12,  the  Discovery.  It  was  wonderful  to  find  America, 
but  it  would  have  been  more  wonderful  to  miss  it. 

—Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  Calendar. 

THE  town  sat  up  all  night  to  discuss  the  amazing 
events  of  the  day  and  swap  guesses  as  to  when 
Tom's  trial  would  begin.  Troop  after  troop  of 
citizens  came  to  serenade  Wilson,  and  require  a 
speech,  and  shout  themselves  hoarse  over  every 
sentence  that  fell  from  his  lips — for  all  his  sentences 
were  golden,  now,  all  were  marvelous.  His  long 
fight  against  hard  luck  and  prejudice  was  ended;  he 
was  a  made  man  for  good. 

And  as  each  of  these  roaring  gangs  of  enthusiasts 
marched  away,  some  remorseful  member  of  it  was 
quite  sure  to  raise  his  voice  and  say: 

"And  this  is  the  man  the  likes  of  us  have  called 
a  pudd'nhead  for  more  than  twenty  years.  He  has 
resigned  from  that  position,  friends." 

"Yes,  but  it  isn't  vacant — we're  elected." 

THE  twins  were  heroes  of  romance,  now,  and  with 
rehabilitated  reputations.     But  they  were  weary  of 
Western  adventure,  and  straightway  retired  to  Europe. 
14  201 


MARK    TWAIN 

Roxy's  heart  was  broken.  The  young  fellow 
upon  whom  she  had  inflicted  twenty-three  years  of 
slavery  continued  the  false  heir's  pension  of  thirty- 
five  dollars  a  month  to  her,  but  her  hurts  were  too 
deep  for  money  to  heal;  the  spirit  in  her  eye  was 
quenched,  her  martial  bearing  departed  with  it,  and 
the  voice  of  her  laughter  ceased  in  the  land.  In  her 
church  and  its  affairs  she  found  her  only  solace. 

The  real  heir  suddenly  found  himself  rich  and  free, 
but  in  a  most  embarrassing  situation.  He  could 
neither  read  nor  write,  and  his  speech  was  the  basest 
dialect  of  the  negro  quarter.  His  gait,  his  accitudes, 
his  gestures,  his  bearing,  his  laugh — all  were  vulgar 
and  uncouth;  his  manners  were  the  manners  of  a 
slave.  £Money  and  fine  clothes  could  not  mend  these 
defects  or  cover  them  up ;  they  only  made  them  the 
more  glaring  and  the  more  pathetic.  ^The  poor 
fellow  could  not  endure  the  terrors  of  the  white 
man's  parlor,  and  felt  at  home  and  at  peace  nowhere 
but  in  the  kitchen.  The  family  pew  was  a  misery  to 
him,  yet  he  could  nevermore  enter  into  the  solacing 
refuge  of  the  "nigger  gallery" — that  was  closed  to 
him  for  good  and  all.  But  we  cannot  follow  his 
curious  fate  further — that  would  be  a  long  story. 

The  false  heir  made  a  full  confession  and  was 
sentenced  to  imprisonment  for  life.  But  now  a 
complication  came  up.  The  Percy  Driscoll  estate 
was  in  such  a  crippled  shape  when  its  owner  died 
that  it  could  pay  only  sixty  per  cent,  of  its  great 
indebtedness,  and  was  settled  at  that  rate.  But  the 
creditors  came  forward,  now,  and  complained  that 
inasmuch  as  through  an  error  for  which  they  were  in 

202 


PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON 

no  way  to  blame  the  false  heir  was  not  inventoried  at 
that  time  with  the  rest  of  the  property,  great  wrong 
and  loss  had  thereby  been  inflicted  upon  them. 
They  rightly  claimed  that  "Tom"  was  lawfully  their 
property  and  had  been  so  for  eight  years;  that  they 
had  already  lost  sufficiently  in  being  deprived  of  his 
services  during  that  long  period,  and  ought  not  to 
be  required  to  add  anything  to  that  loss;  that  if  he 
had  been  delivered  up  to  them  in  the  first  place,  they 
would  have  sold  him  and  he  could  not  have  mur- 
dered Judge  Driscoll;  therefore  it  was  not  he  that 
had  really  committed  the  murder,  the  guilt  lay  with 
the  erroneous  inventory.  Everybody  saw  that  there 
was  reason  in  this.  Everybody  granted  that  if 
"Tom"  were  white  and  free  it  would  be  unquestion- 
ably right  to  punish  him — it  would  be  no  loss  to 
anybody;  but  to  shut  up  a  valuable  slave  for  life — 
that  was  quite  another  matter. 

As  soon  as  the  Governor  understood  the  case,  he 
pardoned  Tom  at  once,  and  the  creditors  sold  him 
down  the  river. 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY  TWINS 


Copyright.  1894.  by  OLIVIA  L.  CLEMENS 
Printed  In  the  United  States  of  America 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY  TWINS 

A  MAN  who  is  born  with  the  novel-writing  gift 
has  a  troublesome  time  of  it  when  he  tries  to 
build  a  novel.  I  know  this  from  experience.  He 
has  no  clear  idea  of  his  story;  in  fact  he  has  no 
story.  He  merely  has  some  people  in  his  mind,  and 
an  incident  or  two,  also  a  locality.  He  knows  these 
people,  he  knows  the  selected  locality,  and  he  trusts 
that  he  can  plunge  those  people  into  those  incidents 
with  interesting  results.  So  he  goes  to  work.  To 
write  a  novel?  No — that  is  a  thought  which  comes 
later;  in  the  beginning  he  is  only  proposing  to  tell  a 
little  tale;  a  very  little  tale;  a  six-page  tale.  But 
as  it  is  a  tale  which  he  is  not  acquainted  with,  and 
can  only  find  out  what  it  is  by  listening  as  it  goes 
along  telling  itself,  it  is  more  than  apt  to  go  on  and 
on  and  on  till  it  spreads  itself  into  a  book.  I  know 
about  this,  because  it  has  happened  to  me  so  many 
times. 

And  I  have  noticed  another  thing:  that  as  the 
short  tale  grows  into  the  long  tale,  the  original  in- 
tention (or  motif)  is  apt  to  get  abolished  and  find 
itself  superseded  by  a  quite  different  one.  It  was 
so  in  the  case  of  a  magazine  sketch  which  I  once 
started  to  write — a  funny  and  fantastic  sketch  about 
a  prince  and  a  pauper;  it  presently  assumed  a  grave 
207 


MARK    TWAIN 

cast  of  its  own  accord,  and  in  that  new  shape  spread 
itself  out  into  a  book.  Much  the  same  thing  hap- 
pened with  "Pudd'nhead  Wilson."  I  had  a  suffi- 
ciently hard  time  with  that  tale,  because  it  changed 
itself  from  a  farce  to  a  tragedy  while  I  was  going 
along  with  it — a  most  embarrassing  circumstance. 
But  w^jat  was  a  great  deal  worse  was,  that  it  was  not 
one  story,  but  two  stories  tangled  together;  and 
they  obstructed  and  interrupted  each  other  at  every 
turn  and  created  no  end  of  confusion  and  annoyance. 
I  could  not  offer  the  book  for  publication,  for  I  was 
afraid  it  would  unseat  the  reader's  reason.  I  did  not 
know  what  was  the  matter  with  it,  for  I  had  not 
noticed,  as  yet,  that  it  was  two  stories  in  one.  It 
took  me  months  to  make  that  discovery.  I  carried 
the  manuscript  back  and  forth  across  the  Atlantic 
two  or  three  times,  and  read  it  and  studied  over  it 
on  shipboard ;  and  at  last  I  saw  where  the  difficulty 
lay.  I  had  no  further  trouble.  I  pulled  one  of  the 
stories  out  by  the  roots,  and  left  the  other  one — a 
kind  of  literary  Cassarean  operation. 

Would  the  reader  care  to  know  something  about 
the  story  which  I  pulled  out?  He  has  been  told 
many  a  time  how  the  born-and-trained  novelist 
works.  Won't  he  let  me  round  and  complete  his 
knowledge  by  telling  him  how  the  jack-leg  does  it? 

Originally  the  story  was  called  "Those  Extraor- 
dinary Twins."  I  meant  to  make  it  very  short.  I 
had  seen  a  picture  of  a  youthful  Italian  "freak" — 
or  "freaks" — which  was — or  which  were — on  ex- 
hibition in  our  cities — a  combination  consisting 
of  two  heads  and  four  arms  joined  to  a  single  body 
208 


I    THOUGHT    I    WOULD    WRITE    A    LITTLE    STORY 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

and  a  single  pair  of  legs — and  I  thought  I  would 
write  an  extravagantly  fantastic  little  story  with  this 
freak  of  nature  for  hero — or  heroes — a  silly  young 
miss  for  heroine,  and  two  old  ladies  and  two  boys  for 
the  minor  parts.  I  lavishly  elaborated  these  people 
and  their  doings,  of  course.  But  the  tale  kept 
spreading  along,  and  spreading  along,  and  other  peo- 
ple got  to  intruding  themselves  and  taking  up  more 
and  more  room  with  their  talk  and  their  affairs. 
Among  them  came  a  stranger  named  Pudd'nhead 
Wilson,  and  a  woman  named  Roxana;  and  presently 
the  doings  of  these  two  pushed  up  into  prominence 
a  young  fellow  named  Tom  Driscoll,  whose  proper 
place  was  away  in  the  obscure  background.  Before 
the  book  was  half  finished  those  three  were  taking 
things  almost  entirely  into  their  own  hands  and 
working  the  whole  tale  as  a  private  venture  of  their 
own — a  tale  which  they  had  nothing  at  all  to  do 
with,  by  rights. 

When  the  book  was  finished  and  I  came  to  look 
around  to  see  what  had  become  of  the  team  I  had 
originally  started  out  with — Aunt  Patsy  Cooper, 
Aunt  Betsy  Hale,  the  two  boys,  and  Rowena  the 
light-weight  heroine — they  were  nowhere  to  be  seen ; 
they  had  disappeared  from  the  story  some  time  or 
other.  I  hunted  about  and  found  them — found 
them  stranded,  idle,  forgotten,  and  permanently 
useless.  It  was  very  awkward.  It  was  awkward  all 
around ;  but  more  particularly  in  the  case  of  Rowena, 
because  there  was  a  love-match  on,  between  her  and 
one  of  the  twins  that  constituted  the  freak,  and  I  had 
worked  it  up  to  a  blistering  heat  and  thrown  in  a 
209 


MARK    TWAIN 

quite  dramatic  love-quarrel,  wherein  Rowena  scath- 
ingly denounced  her  betrothed  for  getting  drunk, 
and  scoffed  at  his  explanation  of  how  it  had  hap- 
pened, and  wouldn't  listen  to  it,  and  had  driven  him 
from  her  in  the  usual  "forever"  way;  and  now 
here  she  sat  crying  and  broken-hearted;  for  she  had 
found  that  he  had  spoken  only  the  truth;  that  it  was 
not  he,  but  the  other  half  of  the  freak,  that  had  drunk 
the  liquor  that  made  him  drunk;  that  her  half  was  a 
prohibitionist  and  had  never  drunk  a  drop  in  his  life, 
and,  although  tight  as  a  brick  three  days  in  the  week, 
was  wholly  innocent  of  blame;  and  indeed,  when 
sober,  was  constantly  doing  all  he  could  to  reform 
his  brother,  the  other  half,  who  never  got  any  satis- 
faction out  of  drinking,  anyway,  because  liquor 
never  affected  him.  Yes,  here  she  was,  stranded 
with  that  deep  injustice  of  hers  torturing  her  poor 
torn  heart. 

I  didn't  know  what  to  do  with  her.  I  was  as 
sorry  for  her  as  anybody  could  be,  but  the  campaign 
was  over,  the  book  was  finished,  she  was  side- 
tracked, and  there  was  no  possible  way  of  crowding 
her  in,  anywhere.  I  could  not  leave  her  there,  of 
course;  it  would  not  do.  After  spreading  her  out 
so,  and  making  such  a  to-do  over  her  affairs,  it 
would  be  absolutely  necessary  to  account  to  the 
reader  for  her.  I  thought  and  thought  and  studied 
and  studied;  but  I  arrived  at  nothing.  I  finally  saw 
plainly  that  there  was  really  no  way  but  one — I 
must  simply  give  her  the  grand  bounce.  It  grieved 
me  to  do  it,  for  after  associating  with  her  so  much  I 
had  come  to  kind  of  like  her  after  a  fashion,  not- 
210 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

withstanding  she  was  such  an  ass  and  said  such 
stupid,  irritating  things  and  was  so  nauseatingly 
sentimental.  Still  it  had  to  be  done.  So,  at  the  top 
of  Chapter  XVII,  I  put  a  "Calendar"  remark  con- 
cerning July  Fourth,  and  began  the  chapter  with 
this  statistic: 

"Rowena  went  out  in  the  back  yard  after  supper 
to  see  the  fireworks  and  fell  down  the  well  and  got 
drowned." 

It  seemed  abrupt,  but  I  thought  maybe  the  reader 
wouldn't  notice  it,  because  I  changed  the  subject 
right  away  to  something  else.  Anyway  it  loosened 
up  Rowena  from  where  she  was  stuck  and  got  her 
out  of  the  way,  and  that  was  the  main  thing.  It 
seemed  a  prompt  good  way  of  weeding  out  people 
that  had  got  stalled,  and  a  plenty  good  enough  way 
for  those  others;  so  I  hunted  up  the  two  boys  and 
said  "they  went  out  back  one  night  to  stone  the  cat 
and  fell  down  the  well  and  got  drowned."  Next  I 
searched  around  and  found  old  Aunt  Patsy  Cooper 
and  Aunt  Betsy  Hale  where  they  were  aground,  and 
said  "they  went  out  back  one  night  to  visit  the  sick 
and  fell  down  the  well  and  got  drowned."  I  was 
going  to  drown  some  of  the  others,  but  I  gave  up  the 
idea,  partly  because  I  believed  that  if  I  kept  that 
up  it  would  arouse  attention,  and  perhaps  sympathy 
with  those  people,  and  partly  because  it  was  not  a 
large  well  and  would  not  hold  any  more  anyway. 

Still  the  story  was  unsatisfactory.  Here  was  a  set 
of  new  characters  who  were  become  inordinately 
prominent  and  who  persisted  in  remaining  so  to  the 
end;  and  back  yonder  was  an  older  set  who  made  a 


MARK    TWAIN 

large  noise  and  a  great  to-do  for  a  little  while  and 
then  suddenly  played  out  utterly  and  fell  down  the 
well.  There  was  a  radical  defect  somewhere,  and  I 
must  search  it  out  and  cure  it. 

The  defect  turned  out  to  be  the  one  already 
spoken  of — two  stories  in  one,  a  farce  and  a  tragedy. 
So  I  pulled  out  the  farce  and  left  the  tragedy.  This 
left  the  original  team  in,  but  only  as  mere  names, 
not  as  characters.  Their  prominence  was  wholly 
gone;  they  were  not  even  worth  drowning;  so  I 
removed  that  detail.  Also  I  took  those  twins  apart 
and  made  two  separate  men  of  them.  They  had  no 
occasion  to  have  foreign  names  now,  but  it  was  too 
much  trouble  to  remove  them  all  through,  so  I  left 
them  christened  as  they  were  and  made  no  ex- 
planation. 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  conglomerate  twins  were  brought   on  the 
stage  in  Chapter  I  of  the  original  extravaganza. 
Aunt  Patsy  Cooper  has  received  their  letter  applying 
for  board  and  lodging,  and  Rowena,  her  daughter, 
insane  with  joy,  is  begging  for  a  hearing  of  it: 

"Well,  set  down  then,  and  be  quiet  a  minute  and 
don't  fly  around  so;  it  fairly  makes  me  tired  to  see 
you.  It  starts  off  so:  'HONORED  MADAM — '" 

"I  like  that,  ma,  don't  you?  It  shows  they're 
high-bred." 

"Yes,  I  noticed  that  when  I  first  read  it.  'My 
brother  and  I  have  seen  your  advertisement,  by 
chance,  in  a  copy  of  your  local  journal — ' " 

"It's  so  beautiful  and  smooth,  ma — don't  you 
think  so?" 

"Yes,  seems  so  to  me — 'and  beg  leave  to  take 
the  room  you  offer.  We  are  twenty-four  years  of 
age,  and  twins — '" 

"Twins!  How  sweet!  I  do  hope  they  are  hand- 
some, and  I  just  know  they  are!  Don't  you  hope 
they  are,  ma?" 

"Land,  I  ain't  particular.  'We  are  Italians  by 
birth—'" 

"It's    so    romantic!    Just    think — there's    never 
been  one  in  this  town,  and  everybody  will  want  to 
see  them,  and  they're  all  ours!    Think  of  that!" 
213 


MARK    TWAIN 

" — 'but  have  lived  long  in  the  various  countries 
of  Europe,  and  several  years  in  the  United  States.'" 

"Oh,  just  think  what  wonders  they've  seen,  ma! 
Won't  it  be  good  to  hear  them  talk?" 

"I  reckon  so;  yes,  I  reckon  so.  'Our  names 
are  Luigi  and  Angelo  Capello — ' " 

"Beautiful,  perfectly  beautiful!  Not  like  Jones 
and  Robinson  and  those  horrible  names." 

"'You  desire  but  one  guest,  but  dear  madam,  if 
you  will  allow  us  to  pay  for  two  we  will  not  discom- 
mode you.  We  will  sleep  together  in  the  same  bed. 
We  have  always  been  used  to  this,  and  prefer  it.' 
And  then  he  goes  on  to  say  they  will  be  down 
Thursday." 

"And  this  is  Tuesday — I  don't  know  how  I'm 
ever  going  to  wait,  ma!  The  time  does  drag  along 
so,  and  I'm  so  dying  to  see  them!  Which  of  them 
do  you  reckon  is  the  tallest,  ma?" 

"How  do  you  s'pose  I  can  tell,  child?  Mostly 
they  are  the  same  size — twins  are." 

"Well  then,  which  do  you  reckon  is  the  best 
looking?" 

"Goodness  knows — I  don't." 

"I  think  Angelo  is;  it's  the  prettiest  name,  any- 
way. Don't  you  think  it's  a  sweet  name,  ma?" 

"Yes,  it's  well  enough.  I'd  like  both  of  them 
better  if  I  knew  the  way  to  pronounce  them — the 
Eyetalian  way,  I  mean.  The  Missouri  way  and  the 
Eyetalian  way  is  different,  I  judge." 

"Maybe — yes.  It's  Luigi  that  writes  the  letter. 
What  do  you  reckon  is  the  reason  Angelo  didn't 
write  it?" 

214 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

"Why,  how  can  I  tell?  What's  the  difference 
who  writes  it,  so  long  as  it's  done?" 

"Oh,  I  hope  it  wasn't  because  he  is  sick!  You 
don't  think  he  is  sick,  do  you,  ma?" 

"Sick  your  granny;   what's  to  make  him  sick?" 

"Oh,  there's  never  any  telling.  These  foreigners 
with  that  kind  of  names  are  so  delicate,  and  of  course 
that  kind  of  names  are  not  suited  to  our  climate — 
you  wouldn't  expect  it." 

[And  so-on  and  so-on,  no  end.  The  time  drags  along;  Thurs- 
day comes:  the  boat  arrives  in  a  pouring  storm  toward  mid- 
night.] 

At  last  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door  and  tne 
anxious  family  jumped  to  open  it.  Two  negro  men 
entered,  each  carrying  a  trunk,  and  proceeded  up- 
stairs toward  the  guest-room.  Then  followed  a 
stupefying  apparition — a  double-headed  human  crea- 
ture with  four  arms,  one  body,  and  a  single  pair 
of  legs!  It — or  they,  as  you  please — bowed  with 
elaborate  foreign  formality,  but  the  Coopers  could 
not  respond  immediately;  they  were  paralyzed.  At 
this  moment  there  came  from  the  rear  of  the  group 
a  fervent  ejaculation — "My  Ian'!" — followed  by 
a  crash  of  crockery,  and  the  slave-wench  Nancy 
stood  petrified  and  staring,  with  a  tray  of  wrecked 
tea-things  at  her  feet.  The  incident  broke  the  spell, 
and  brought  the  family  to  consciousness.  The 
beautiful  heads  of  the  new-comer  bowed  again,  and 
one  of  them  said  with  easy  grace  and  dignity: 

"I  crave  the  honor,  madam  and  miss,  to  introduce 
to  you  my  brother,  Count  Luigi  Capello,"  (the  other 
215 


MARK    TWAIN 

head  bowed)  "and  myself — Count  Angelo;  and  at 
the  same  time  offer  sincere  apologies  for  the  lateness 
of  our  coming,  which  was  unavoidable,"  and  both 
heads  bowed  again. 

The  poor  old  lady  was  in  a  whirl  of  amazement 
and  confusion,  but  she  managed  to  stammer  out : 

"I'm  sure  I'm  glad  to  make  your  acquaintance, 
sir — I  mean,  gentlemen.  As  for  the  delay,  it  is 
nothing,  don't  mention  it.  This  is  my  daughter 
Rowena,  sir — gentlemen.  Please  step  into  the  par- 
lor and  sit  down  and  have  a  bite  and  sup;  you  are 
dreadful  wet  and  must  be  uncomfortable — both  of 
you,  I  mean." 

But  to  the  old  lady's  relief  they  courteously  ex- 
cused themselves,  saying  it  would  be  wrong  to  keep 
the  family  out  of  their  beds  longer;  then  each  head 
bowed  in  turn  and  uttered  a  friendly  good  night,  and 
the  singular  figure  moved  away  in  the  wake  of 
Rowena's  small  brothers,  who  bore  candles,  and  dis- 
appeared up  the  stairs. 

The  widow  tottered  into  the  parlor  and  sank  into 
a  chair  with  a  gasp,  and  Rowena  followed,  tongue- 
tied  and  dazed.  The  two  sat  silent  in  the  throbbing 
summer  heat  unconscious  of  the  million-voiced 
music  of  the  mosquitoes,  unconscious  of  the  roaring 
gale,  the  lashing  and  thrashing  of  the  rain  along  the 
windows  and  the  roof,  the  white  glare  of  the  light- 
ning, the  tumultuous  booming  and  bellowing  of  the 
thunder;  conscious  of  nothing  but  that  prodigy,  that 
uncanny  apparition  that  had  come  and  gone  so  sud- 
denly— that  weird  strange  thing  that  was  so  soft- 
spoken  and  so  gentle  of  manner  and  yet  had  shaken 
216 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

them  up  like  an  earthquake  with  the  shock  of  its 
gruesome  aspect.  At  last  a  cold  little  shudder 
quivered  along  down  the  widow's  meager  frame  and 
she  said  in  a  weak  voice: 

"Ugh,  it  was  awful — just  the  mere  look  of  that 
phillipene!" 

Rowena  did  not  answer.  Her  faculties  were  still 
caked,  she  had  not  yet  found  her  voice.  Presently 
the  widow  said,  a  little  resentfully: 

"Always  been  used  to  sleeping  together — in  fact, 
prefer  it.  And  I  was  thinking  it  was  to  accommo- 
date me.  I  thought  it  was  very  good  of  them, 
whereas  a  person  situated  as  that  young  man  is — " 

' '  Ma,  you  oughtn't  to  begin  by  getting  up  a  preju- 
dice against  him.  I'm  sure  he  is  good-hearted  and 
means  well.  Both  of  his  faces  show  it." 

"I'm  not  so  certain  about  that.  The  one  on  the 
left — I  mean  the  one  on  ifs  left — hasn't  near  as 
good  a  face,  in  my  opinion,  as  its  brother." 

"That's  Luigi." 

"Yes,  Luigi;  anyway  it's  the  dark-skinned  one; 
the  one  that  was  west  of  his  brother  when  they  stood 
in  the  door.  Up  to  all  kinds  of  mischief  and  diso- 
bedience when  he  was  a  boy,  I'll  be  bound.  I  lay 
his  mother  had  trouble  to  lay  her  hand  on  him  when 
she  wanted  him.  But  the  one  on  the  right  is  as  good 
as  gold,  I  can  see  that." 

"That's  Angelo." 

"Yes,  Angelo,  I  reckon,  though  I  can't  tell  t'other 
from  which  by  their  names,  yet  awhile.  But  it's  the 
right-hand  one — the  blond  one.  He  has  such  kind  blue 
eyes,  and  curly  copper  hair  and  fresh  complexion — " 

15  217 


MARK    TWAIN 

"And  such  a  noble  face! — oh,  it  is  a  noble  face, 
ma,  just  royal,  you  may  say!  And  beautiful — 
deary  me,  how  beautiful!  But  both  are  that;  the 
dark  one's  as  beautiful  as  a  picture.  There's  no 
such  wonderful  faces  and  handsome  heads  in  this 
town — none  that  even  begin.  And  such  hands — 
especially  Angelo's — so  shapely  and — " 

"Stuff,  how  could  you  tell  which  they  belonged 
to? — they  had  gloves  on." 

"Why,  didn't  I  see  them  take  off  their  hats?" 

"That  don't  signify.  They  might  have  taken  off 
each  other's  hats.  Nobody  could  tell.  There  was 
just  a  wormy  squirming  of  arms  in  the  air — seemed 
to  be  a  couple  of  dozen  of  them,  all  writhing  at 
once,  and  it  just  made  me  dizzy  to  see  them  go." 

"Why,  ma,  I  hadn't  any  difficulty.  There's  two 
arms  on  each  shoulder — " 

"There,  now.  One  arm  on  each  shoulder  belongs 
to  each  of  the  creatures,  don't  it?  For  a  person  to 
have  two  arms  on  one  shoulder  wouldn't  do  him  any 
good,  would  it  ?  Of  course  not.  Each  has  an  arm 
on  each  shoulder.  Now  then,  you  tell  me  which  of 
them  belongs  to  which,  if  you  can.  They  don't 
know,  themselves — they  just  work  whichever  arm 
comes  handy.  Of  course  they  do ;  especially  if  they 
are  in  a  hurry  and  can't  stop  to  think  which  belongs 
to  which." 

The  mother  seemed  to  have  the  rights  of  the  argu- 
ment, so  the  daughter  abandoned  the  struggle. 
Presently  the  widow  rose  with  a  yawn  and  said: 

"Poor  thing,  I  hope  it  won't  catch  cold;  it  was 
powerful  wet,  just  drenched,  you  may  say.  I  hope 
218 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

it  has  left  its  boots  outside,  so  they  can  be  dried." 
Then  she  gave  a  little  start,  and  looked  perplexed. 
"Now  I  remember  I  heard  one  of  them  ask  Joe  to 
call  him  at  half  after  seven — I  think  it  was  the  one 
on  the  left — no,  it  was  the  one  to  the  east  of  the 
other  one — but  I  didn't  hear  the  other  one  say  any- 
thing. I  wonder  if  he  wants  to  be  called  too.  Do 
you  reckon  it's  too  late  to  ask?" 

"Why,  ma,  it's  not  necessary.  Calling  one  is 
calling  both.  If  one  gets  up,  the  other's  got  to." 

"Sho,  of  course;  I  never  thought  of  that.  Well, 
come  along,  maybe  we  can  get  some  sleep,  but  I 
don't  know,  I'm  so  shook  up  with  what  we've  been 
through." 

The  stranger  had  made  an  impression  on  the  boys, 
too.  They  had  a  word  of  talk  as  they  were  getting 
to  bed.  Henry,  the  gentle,  the  humane,  said: 

"I  feel  ever  so  sorry  for  it,  don't  you,  Joe?" 

But  Joe  was  a  boy  of  this  world,  active,  enter- 
prising, and  had  a  theatrical  side  to  him: 

"Sorry?  Why,  how  you  talk!  It  can't  stir  a 
step  without  attracting  attention.  It's  just  grand !" 

Henry  said,  reproachfully: 

"Instead  of  pitying  it,  Joe,  you  talk  as  if — " 

"Talk  as  if  what?  I  know  one  thing  mighty 
certain:  if  you  can  fix  me  so  I  can  eat  for  two  and 
only  have  to  stub  toes  for  one,  I  ain't  going  to  fool 
away  no  such  chance  just  for  sentiment." 

The  twins  were  wet  and  tired,  and  they  proceeded 

to  undress  without  any  preliminary  remarks.     The 

abundance  of  sleeve  made  the  partnership  coat  hard 

to  get  off,  for  it  was  like  skinning  a  tarantula ;  but  it 

219 


MARK    TWAIN 

came  at  last,  after  much  tugging  and  perspiring. 
The  mutual  vest  followed.  Then  the  brothers  stood 
up  before  the  glass,  and  each  took  off  his  own  cravat 
and  collar.  The  collars  were  of  the  standing  kind, 
and  came  high  up  under  the  ears,  like  the  sides  of  a 
wheelbarrow,  as  required  by  the  fashion  of  the  day. 
The  cravats  were  as  broad  as  a  bank-bill,  with 
fringed  ends  which  stood  far  out  to  right  and  left 
like  the  wings  of  a  dragon-fly,  and  this  also  was 
strictly  in  accordance  with  the  fashion  of  the  time. 
Each  cravat,  as  to  color,  was  in  perfect  taste,  so  far 
as  its  owner's  complexion  was  concerned — a  deli- 
cate pink,  in  the  case  of  the  blond  brother,  a  violent 
scarlet  in  the  case  of  the  brunette — but  as  a  combi- 
nation they  broke  all  the  laws  of  taste  known  to 
civilization.  Nothing  more  fiendish  and  irrecon- 
cilable than  those  shrieking  and  blaspheming  colors 
could  have  been  contrived.  The  wet  boots  gave  no 
end  of  trouble — to  Luigi.  When  they  were  off  at 
last,  Angelo  said,  with  bitterness: 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  wear  such  tight  boots,  they 
hurt  my  feet." 

Luigi  answered  with  indifference: 

"My  friend,  when  I  am  in  command  of  our  body, 
I  choose  my  apparel  according  to  my  own  con- 
venience, as  I  have  remarked  more  than  several 
times  already.  When  you  are  in  command,  I  beg 
you  will  do  as  you  please." 

Angelo  was  hurt,  and  the  tears  came  into  his 
eyes.  There  was  gentle  reproach  in  his  voice,  but 
not  anger,  when  he  replied: 

"Luigi,    I   often   consult  your  wishes,   but  you 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

never  consult  mine.  When  I  am  in  command  I 
treat  you  as  a  guest;  I  try  to  make  you  feel  at 
home;  when  you  are  in  command  you  treat  me  as 
an  intruder,  you  make  me  feel  unwelcome.  It 
embarrasses  me  cruelly  in  company,  for  I  can  see 
that  people  notice  it  and  comment  on  it." 

"Oh,  damn  the  people,"  responded  the  brother 
languidly,  and  with  the  air  of  one  who  is  tired  of  the 
subject. 

A  slight  shudder  shook  the  frame  of  Angelo,  but 
he  said  nothing  and  the  conversation  ceased.  Each 
buttoned  his  own  share  of  the  nightshirt  in  silence; 
then  Luigi,  with  Paine's  Age  of  Reason  in  his  hand, 
sat  down  in  one  chair  and  put  his  feet  in  another 
and  lit  his  pipe,  while  Angelo  took  his  Whole  Duty 
of  Man,  and  both  began  to  read.  Angelo  presently 
began  to  cough;  his  coughing  increased  and  became 
mixed  with  gaspings  for  breath,  and  he  was  finally 
obliged  to  make  an  appeal  to  his  brother's  humanity : 

"Luigi,  if  you  would  only  smoke  a  little  milder 
tobacco,  I  am  sure  I  could  learn  not  to  mind  it  in 
time,  but  this  is  so  strong,  and  the  pipe  is  so  rank 
that—" 

"Angelo,  I  wouldn't  be  such  a  baby!  I  have 
learned  to  smoke  in  a  week,  and  the  trouble  is 
already  over  with  me;  if  you  would  try,  you  could 
learn  too,  and  then  you  would  stop  spoiling  my 
comfort  with  your  everlasting  complaints." 

"Ah,  brother,  that  is  a  strong  word — everlasting 
— and  isn't  quite  fair.  I  only  complain  when  I 
suffocate;  you  know  I  don't  complain  when  we  are 
in  the  open  air." 

221 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Well,  anyway,  you  could  learn  to  smoke  your- 
self." 

"But  my  principles,  Luigi,  you  forget  my  prin- 
ciples. You  would  not  have  me  do  a  thing  which  I 
regard  as  a  sin?" 

"Oh,  bosh!" 

The  conversation  ceased  again,  for  Angelo  was 
sick  and  discouraged  and  strangling;  but  after  some 
time  he  closed  his  book  and  asked  Luigi  to  sing 
"From  Greenland's  Icy  Mountains"  with  him,  but 
he  would  not,  and  when  he  tried  to  sing  by  himself 
Luigi  did  his  best  to  drown  his  plaintive  tenor  with 
a  rude  and  rollicking  song  delivered  in  a  thundering 
bass. 

After  the  singing  there  was  silence,  and  neither 
brother  was  happy.  Before  blowing  the  light  out 
Luigi  swallowed  half  a  tumbler  of  whisky,  and 
Angelo,  whose  sensitive  organization  could  not 
endure  intoxicants  of  any  kind,  took  a  pill  to  keep 
it  from  giving  him  the  headache. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  family  sat  in  the  breakfast-room  waiting  foi 
the  twins  to  come  down.  The  widow  was 
quiet,  the  daughter  was  alive  with  happy  excitement. 
She  said: 

"Ah,  they're  a  boon,  ma,  just  a  boon!  don't  you 
think  so?" 

"Laws,  I  hope  so,  I  don't  know." 

"Why,  ma,  yes  you  do.  They're  so  fine  and 
handsome,  and  high-bred  and  polite,  so  every  way 
superior  to  our  gawks  here  in  this  village;  why, 
they'll  make  life  different  from  what  it  was — so 
humdrum  and  commonplace,  you  know — oh,  you 
may  be  sure  they're  full  of  accomplishments,  and 
knowledge  of  the  world,  and  all  that,  that  will  be  an 
immense  advantage  to  society  here.  Don't  you 
think  so,  ma?" 

"Mercy  on  me,  how  should  I  know,  and  I've 
hardly  set  eyes  on  them  yet."  After  a  pause  she 
added,  "They  made  considerable  noise  after  they 
went  up." 

"Noise?  Why,  ma,  they  were  singing!  And  it 
was  beautiful,  too." 

"Oh,  it  was  well  enough,  but  too  mixed-up, 
seemed  to  me." 

"Now,  ma,  honor  bright,  did  you  ever  hear 
223 


MARK    TWAIN 

'Greenland's  Icy  Mountains'  sung  sweeter — now 
did  you?" 

"  If  it  had  been  sung  by  itself,  it  would  have  been 
uncommon  sweet,  I  don't  deny  it;  but  what  they 
wanted  to  mix  it  up  with  'Old  Bob  Ridley'  for,  I 
can't  make  out.  Why,  they  don't  go  together,  at  all. 
They  are  not  of  the  same  nature.  'Bob  Ridley'  is 
a  common  rackety  slam-bang  secular  song,  one  of 
the  rippingest  and  rantingest  and  noisiest  there  is. 
I  am  no  judge  of  music,  and  I  don't  claim  it,  but  in 
my  opinion  nobody  can  make  those  two  songs  go 
together  right." 

"Why,  ma,  I  thought—" 

"It  don't  make  any  difference  what  you  thought, 
it  can't  be  done.  They  tried  it,  and  to  my  mind  it 
was  a  failure.  I  never  heard  such  a  crazy  uproar; 
seemed  to  me,  sometimes,  the  roof  would  come  off; 
and  as  for  the  cats — well,  I've  lived  a  many  a  year, 
and  seen  cats  aggravated  in  more  ways  than  one, 
but  I've  never  seen  cats  take  on  the  way  they  took 
on  last  night." 

"  Well,  I  don't  think  that  that  goes  for  anything, 
ma,  because  it  is  the  nature  of  cats  that  any  sound 
that  is  unusual — " 

"Unusual!  You  may  well  call  it  so.  Now  if 
they  are  going  to  sing  duets  every  night,  I  do  hope 
they  will  both  sing  the  same  tune  at  the  same  time, 
for  in  my  opinion  a  duet  that  is  made  up  of  two 
different  tunes  is  a  mistake;  especially  when  the 
tunes  ain't  any  kin  to  one  another,  that  way." 

"But,  ma,  I  think  it  must  be  a  foreign  custom; 
and  it  must  be  right  too;  and  the  best  way,  because 
224 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

they  have  had  every  opportunity  to  know  what  is 
right,  and  it  don't  stand  to  reason  that  with  their 
education  they  would  do  anything  but  what  the 
highest  musical  authorities  have  sanctioned.  You 
can't  help  but  admit  that,  ma." 

The  argument  was  formidably  strong;  the  old 
lady  could  not  find  any  way  around  it;  so,  after 
thinking  it  over  awhile  she  gave  in  with  a  sigh  of 
discontent,  and  admitted  that  the  daughter's  posi- 
tion was  probably  correct.  Being  vanquished,  she 
had  no  mind  to  continue  the  topic  at  that  disad- 
vantage, and  was  about  to  seek  a  change  when  a 
change  came  of  itself.  A  footstep  was  heard  on  the 
stairs,  and  she  said: 

"There — he's  coming!" 

"They,  ma — you  ought  to  say  they — it's  nearer 
right." 

The  new  lodger,  rather  shoutingly  dressed  but 
looking  superbly  handsome,  stepped  with  courtly 
carriage  into  the  trim  little  breakfast-room  and  put 
out  all  his  cordial  arms  at  once,  like  one  of  those 
pocket-knives  with  a  multiplicity  of  blades,  and 
shook  hands  with  the  whole  family  simultaneously. 
He  was  so  easy  and  pleasant  and  hearty  that  all 
embarrassment  presently  thawed  away  and  disap- 
peared, and  a  cheery  feeling  of  friendliness  and 
comradeship  took  its  place.  He — or  preferably 
they — were  asked  to  occupy  the  seat  of  honor  at 
the  foot  of  the  table.  They  consented  with  thanks, 
and  carved  the  beefsteak  with  one  set  of  their  hands 
while  they  distributed  it  at  the  same  time  with  the 
other  set. 

225 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Will  you  have  coffee,  gentlemen,  or  tea?" 

"Coffee  for  Luigi,  if  you  please,  madam,  tea  for 
me." 

"Cream  and  sugar?" 

"For  me,  yes,  madam;  Luigi  takes  his  coffee 
black.  Our  natures  differ  a  good  deal  from  each 
other,  and  our  tastes  also." 

The  first  time  the  negro  girl  Nancy  appeared  in 
the  door  and  saw  the  two  heads  turned  in  opposite 
directions  and  both  talking  at  once,  then  saw  the 
commingling  arms  feed  potatoes  into  one  mouth 
and  coffee  into  the  other  at  the  same  time,  she  had 
to  pause  and  pull  herself  out  of  a  faintness  that 
came  over  her;  but  after  that  she  held  her  grip  and 
was  able  to  wait  on  the  table  with  fair  courage. 

Conversation  fell  naturally  into  the  customary 
grooves.  It  was  a  little  jerky,  at  first,  because 
none  of  the  family  could  get  smoothly  through  a 
sentence  without  a  wabble  in  it  here  and  a  break 
there,  caused  by  some  new  surprise  in  the  way  of 
attitude  or  gesture  on  the  part  of  the  twins.  The 
weather  suffered  the  most.  The  weather  was  all 
finished  up  and  disposed  of,  as  a  subject,  before  the 
simple  Missourians  had  gotten  sufficiently  wonted 
to  the  spectacle  of  one  body  feeding  two  heads  to 
feel  composed  and  reconciled  in  the  presence  of  so 
bizarre  a  miracle.  And  even  after  everybody's 
mind  became  tranquilized  there  was  still  one  slight 
distraction  left:  the  hand  that  picked  up  a  biscuit 
carried  it  to  the  wrong  head,  as  often  as  any  other 
way,  and  the  wrong  mouth  devoured  it.  This  was  a 
puzzling  thing,  and  marred  the  talk  a  little.  It 
226 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

bothered  the  widow  to  such  a  degree  that  she 
presently  dropped  out  of  the  conversation  without 
knowing  it,  and  fell  to  watching  and  guessing  and 
talking  to  herself: 

"Now  that  hand  is  going  to  take  that  coffee  to 
— no,  it's  gone  to  the  other  mouth;  I  can't  under- 
stand it ;  and  now,  here  is  the  dark-complected  hand 
with  a  potato  on  its  fork,  I'll  see  what  goes  with  it 
— there,  the  light-complected  head's  got  it,  as  sure 
as  I  live!"  Finally  Rowena  said: 

"Ma,  what  is  the  matter  with  you?  Are  you 
dreaming  about  something?" 

The  old  lady  came  to  herself  and  blushed;  then 
she  explained  with  the  first  random  thing  that  came 
into  her  mind:  "I  saw  Mr.  Angelo  take  up  Mr. 
Luigi's  coffee,  and  I  thought  maybe  he — sha'n't  I 
give  you  a  cup,  Mr.  Angelo?" 

"Oh  no,  madam,  I  am  very  much  obliged,  but  I 
never  drink  coffee,  much  as  I  would  like  to.  You 
did  see  me  take  up  Luigi's  cup,  it  is  true,  but  if  you 
noticed,  I  didn't  carry  it  to  my  mouth,  but  to  his." 

"Y-es,  I  thought  you  did.     Did  you  mean  to?" 

"How?" 

The  widow  was  a  little  embarrassed  again.  She 
said: 

"I  don't  know  but  what  I'm  foolish,  and  you 
mustn't  mind;  but  you  see,  he  got  the  coffee  I  was 
expecting  to  see  you  drink,  and  you  got  a  potato 
that  I  thought  he  was  going  to  get.  So  I  thought  it 
might  be  a  mistake  all  around,  and  everybody  get- 
ting what  wasn't  intended  for  him." 

Both  twins  laughed  and  Luigi  said: 
227 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Dear  madam,  there  wasn't  any  mistake.  We 
are  always  helping  each  other  that  way.  It  is  a 
great  economy  for  us  both;  it  saves  time  and  labor. 
We  have  a  system  of  signs  which  nobody  can  notice 
or  understand  but  ourselves.  If  I  am  using  both 
my  hands  and  want  some  coffee,  I  make  the  sign  and 
Angelo  furnishes  it  to  me;  and  you  saw  that  when 
he  needed  a  potato  I  delivered  it." 

"How  convenient!" 

"Yes,  and  often  of  the  extremest  value.  Take 
the  Mississippi  boats,  for  instance.  They  are  always 
overcrowded.  There  is  table-room  for  only  half  of 
the  passengers,  therefore  they  have  to  set  a  second 
table  for  the  second  half.  The  stewards  rush  both 
parties,  they  give  them  no  time  to  eat  a  satisfying 
meal,  both  divisions  leave  the  table  hungry.  It  isn't 
so  with  us.  Angelo  books  himself  for  the  one  table, 
I  book  myself  for  the  other.  Neither  of  us  eats  any- 
thing at  the  other's  table,  but  just  simply  works — 
works.  Thus,  you  see  there  are  four  hands  to  feed 
Angelo,  and  the  same  four  to  feed  me.  Each  of  us 
eats  two  meals." 

The  old  lady  was  dazed  with  admiration,  and  kept 
saying,  "It  is  perfectly  wonderful,  perfectly  wonder- 
ful!" and  the  boy  Joe  licked  his  chops  enviously, 
but  said  nothing — at  least  aloud. 

"Yes,"  continued  Luigi,  "our  construction  may 
have  its  disadvantages — in  fact,  has — but  it  also 
has  its  compensations  of  one  sort  and  another. 
Take  travel,  for  instance.  Travel  is  enormously  ex- 
pensive, in  all  countries;  we  have  been  obliged  to 
do  a  vast  deal  of  it — come,  Angelo,  don't  put  any 
228 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

more  sugar  in  your  tea,  I'm  just  over  one  indiges- 
tion and  don't  want  another  right  away — been 
obliged  to  do  a  deal  of  it,  as  I  was  saying.  Well, 
we  always  travel  as  one  person,  since  we  occupy  but 
one  seat;  so  we  save  half  the  fare." 

"How  romantic!"  interjected  Rowena,  with  effu- 
sion. 

"Yes,  my  dear  young  lady,  and  how  practical 
too,  and  economical.  In  Europe,  beds  in  the  hotels 
are  not  charged  with  the  board,  but  separately — 
another  saving,  for  we  stood  to  our  rights  and 
paid  for  the  one  bed  only.  The  landlords  often 
insisted  that  as  both  of  us  occupied  the  bed  we 
ought — " 

"No,  they  didn't,"  said  Angelo.  "They  did  it 
only  twice,  and  in  both  cases  it  was  a  double  bed — 
a  rare  thing  in  Europe — and  the  double  bed  gave 
them  some  excuse.  Be  fair  to  the  landlords;  twice 
doesn't  constitute  'often.'" 

"Well,  that  depends — that  depends.  I  knew  a 
man  who  fell  down  a  well  twice.  He  said  he  didn't 
mind  the  first  time,  but  he  thought  the  second  time 
was  once  too  often.  Have  I  misused  that  word, 
Mrs.  Cooper?" 

"To  tell  the  truth,  I  was  afraid  you  had,  but  it 
seems  to  look,  now,  like  you  hadn't."  She  stopped, 
and  was  evidently  struggling  with  the  difficult  prob- 
lem a  moment,  then  she  added  in  the  tone  of  one 
who  is  convinced  without  being  converted,  "It  seems 
so,  but  I  can't  somehow  tell  why." 

Rowena  thought  Luigi's  retort  was  wonderfully 
quick  and  bright,  and  she  remarked  to  herself  with 
229 


MARK    TWAIN 

satisfaction  that  there  wasn't  any  young  native  of 
Dawson's  Landing  that  could  have  risen  to  the 
occasion  like  that.  Luigi  detected  the  applause  in 
her  face,  and  expressed  his  pleasure  and  his  thanks 
with  his  eyes;  and  so  eloquently  withal,  that  the 
girl  was  proud  and  pleased,  and  hung  out  the  deli- 
cate sign  of  it  on  her  cheeks. 

Luigi  went  on,  with  animation: 

"Both  of  us  get  a  bath  for  one  ticket,  theater 
seat  for  one  ticket,  pew-rent  is  on  the  same  basis, 
but  at  peep-shows  we  pay  double." 

"We  have  much  to  be  thankful  for,"  said  Angelo, 
impressively,  with  a  reverent  light  in  his  eye  and 
a  reminiscent  tone  in  his  voice,  "we  have  been 
greatly  blessed.  As  a  rule,  what  one  of  us  has 
lacked,  the  other,  by  the  bounty  of  Providence,  has 
been  able  to  supply.  My  brother  is  hardy,  I  am 
not;  he  is  very  masculine,  assertive,  aggressive;  I 
am  much  less  so.  I  am  subject  to  illness,  he  is 
never  ill.  I  cannot  abide  medicines,  and  cannot 
take  them,  but  he  has  no  prejudice  against  them, 
and—" 

"Why,  goodness  gracious,"  interrupted  the  widow, 
"when  you  are  sick,  does  he  take  the  medicine  for 
you?" 

"Always,  madam." 

"Why,  I  never  heard  such  a  thing  in  my  life!  I 
think  it's  beautiful  of  you." 

"Oh,  madam,  it's  nothing,  don't  mention  it,  it's 
really  nothing  at  all." 

"But  I  say  it's  beautiful,  and  I  stick  to  it!"  cried 
the  widow,  with  a  speaking  moisture  in  her  eye. 
230 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

"A  well  brother  to  take  the  medicine  for  his  poor 
sick  brother — I  wish  I  had  such  a  son,"  and  she 
glanced  reproachfully  at  her  boys.  "I  declare  I'll 
never  rest  till  I've  shook  you  by  the  hand,"  and  she 
scrambled  out  of  her  chair  in  a  fever  of  generous 
enthusiasm,  and  made  for  the  twins,  blind  with  her 
tears,  and  began  to  shake.  The  boy  Joe  corrected 
her: 

"You're  shaking  the  wrong  one,  ma." 

This  flurried  her,  but  she  made  a  swift  change  and 
we.  Lit  on  shaking. 

"Got  the  wrong  one  again,  ma,"  said  the  boy. 

"Oh,  shut  up,  can't  you!"  said  the  widow,  em- 
barrassed and  irritated.  "Give  me  all  your  hands, 
I  want  to  shake  them  all ;  for  I  know  you  are  both 
just  as  good  as  you  can  be." 

It  was  a  victorious  thought,  a  master-stroke  of 
diplomacy,  though  that  never  occurred  to  her  and 
she  cared  nothing  for  diplomacy.  She  shook  the 
four  hands  in  turn  cordially,  and  went  back  to  her 
place  in  a  state  of  high  and  fine  exultation  that 
made  her  look  young  and  handsome. 

"Indeed  I  owe  everything  to  Luigi,"  said  Angelo, 
affectionately.  "But  for  him  I  could  not  have  sur- 
vived our  boyhood  days,  when  we  were  friendless 
and  poor — ah,  so  poor!  We  lived  from  hand  to 
mouth — lived  on  the  coarse  fare  of  unwilling  charity, 
and  for  weeks  and  weeks  together  not  a  morsel  of 
food  passed  my  lips,  for  its  character  revolted  me 
and  I  could  not  eat  it.  But  for  Luigi  I  should  have 
died.  He  ate  for  us  both." 

"How  noble!"  sighed  Rowena. 
231 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Do  you  hear  that?"  said  the  widow,  severely, 
to  her  boys.  "Let  it  be  an  example  to  you — I 
mean  you,  Joe." 

Joe  gave  his  head  a  barely  perceptible  disparaging 
toss  and  said:  "Et  for  both.  It  ain't  anything — 
I'd  'a'  done  it." 

"Hush,  ii  you  haven't  got  any  better  manners 
than  that.  You  don't  see  the  point  at  all.  It 
wasn't  good  food." 

"I  don't  care — it  was  food,  and  I'd  'a*  et  it  if  it 
was  rotten." 

"Shame!  Such  language!  Can't  you  under- 
stand? They  were  starving — actually  starving — 
and  he  ate  for  both,  and — " 

"Shucks!  you  gimme  a  chance  and  I'll — " 

"There,  now — close  your  head!  and  don't  you 
open  it  again  till  you're  asked." 

[Angelo  goes  on  and  tells  how  his  parents  the  Count  and 
Countess  had  to  fly  from  Florence  for  political  reasons,  and  died 
poor  in  Berlin  bereft  of  their  great  property  by  confiscation; 
and  how  he  and  Luigi  had  to  travel  with  a  freak-show  during 
two  years  and  suffer  semi-starvation.] 

"That  hateful  black-bread;  but  I  seldom  ate 
anything  during  that  time;  that  was  poor  Luigi 's 
affair — " 

"I'll  never  Mister  him  again!"  cried  the  widow, 
with  strong  emotion,  "he's  Luigi  to  me,  from  this 
out!" 

"Thank  you  a  thousand  times,  madam,  a  thousand 
times!  though  in  truth  I  don't  deserve  it." 

"Ah,  Luigi  is  always  the  fortunate  one  when 
honors  are  showering,"  said  Angelo,  plaintively; 
232 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

"now  what  have  I  done,  Mrs.  Cooper,  that  you 
leave  me  out?  Come,  you  must  strain  a  point  in 
my  favor." 

"Call  you  Angelo?  Why,  certainly  I  will;  what 
are  you  thinking  of!  In  the  case  of  twins,  why — 

"But,  ma,  you're  breaking  up  the  story — do  let 
him  go  on." 

"You  keep  still,  Rowena  Cooper,  and  he  can  go 
on  all  the  better,  I  reckon.  One  interruption  don't 
hurt,  it's  two  that  makes  the  trouble." 

"But  you've  added  one,  now,  and  that  is  three." 

"Rowena!  I  will  not  allow  you  to  talk  back  at 
me  when  you  have  got  nothing  rational  to  say." 

16 


CHAPTER  III 

[After  breakfast  the  whole  village  crowded  in,  and  there  was  a 
grand  reception  in  honor  of  the  twins;  and  at  the  close  of  it  the 
gifted  "freak"  captured  everybody's  admiration  by  sitting  down 
at  the  piano  and  knocking  out  a  classic  four-handed  piece  in 
great  style.  Then  the  Judge  took  it — or  them — driving  in  his 
buggy  and  showed  off  his  village.] 

AJL  along  the  streets  the  people  crowded  the 
windows  and  stared  at  the  amazing  twins. 
Troops  of  small  boys  flocked  after  the  buggy,  ex- 
cited and  yelling.  At  first  the  dogs  showed  no 
interest.  They  thought  they  merely  saw  three  men 
in  a  buggy — a  matter  of  no  consequence;  but 
when  they  found  out  the  facts  of  the  case,  they 
altered  their  opinion  pretty  radically,  and  joined  the 
boys,  expressing  their  minds  as  they  came.  Other 
dogs  got  interested;  indeed,  all  the  dogs.  It  was  a 
spirited  sight  to  see  them  come  leaping  fences, 
tearing  around  corners,  swarming  out  of  every  by- 
street and  alley.  The  noise  they  made  was  some- 
thing beyond  belief — or  praise.  They  did  not  seem 
to  be  moved  by  malice  but  only  by  prejudice,  the 
common  human  prejudice  against  lack  of  conformity. 
If  the  twins  turned  their  heads,  they  broke  and  fled 
in  every  direction,  but  stopped  at  a  safe  distance 
and  faced  about;  and  then  formed  and  came  on 
again  as  soon  as  the  strangers  showed  them  their 
234 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

back.  Negroes  and  farmers'  wives  took  to  the 
woods  when  the  buggy  came  upon  them  suddenly, 
and  altogether  the  drive  was  pleasant  and  animated, 
and  a  refreshment  all  around. 

[It  was  a  long  and  lively  drive.  Angelo  was  a  Methodist,  Luigi 
was  a  Free-thinker.  The  Judge  was  very  proud  of  his  Free- 
thinkers' Society,  which  was  flourishing  along  in  a  most  pros- 
perous way  and  already  had  two  members — himself  and  the 
obscure  and  neglected  Pudd'nhead  Wilson.  It  was  to  meet 
that  evening,  and  he  invited  Luigi  to  join;  a  thing  which  Luigi 
was  glad  to  do,  partly  because  it  would  please  himself,  and 
partly  because  it  would  gravel  Angelo.] 

They  had  now  arrived  at  the  widow's  gate,  and 
the  excursion  was  ended.  The  twins  politely  ex- 
pressed their  obligations  for  the  pleasant  outing 
which  had  been  afforded  them;  to  which  the  Judge 
bowed  his  thanks,  and  then  said  he  would  now  £o 
and  arrange  for  the  Free-thinkers'  meeting,  and 
would  call  for  Count  Luigi  in  the  evening. 

"For  you  also,  dear  sir,"  he  added  hastily,  turn- 
ing to  Angelo  and  bowing.  "In  addressing  myself 
particularly  to  your  brother,  I  was  not  meaning  to 
leave  you  out.  It  was  an  unintentional  rudeness, 
I  assure  you,  and  due  wholly  to  accident — accident 
and  preoccupation.  I  beg  you  to  forgive  me." 

His  quick  eye  had  seen  the  sensitive  blood  mount 
into  Angelo's  face,  betraying  the  wound  that  had 
been  inflicted.  The  sting  of  the  slight  had  gone 
deep,  but  the  apology  was  so  prompt,  and  so  evident- 
ly sincere,  that  the  hurt  was  almost  immediately 
healed,  and  a  forgiving  smile  testified  to  the  kindly 
Judge  that  all  was  well  again, 
235 


MARK    TWAIN 

Concealed  behind  Angelo's  modest  and  unas- 
suming exterior,  and  unsuspected  by  any  but  his 
intimates,  was  a  lofty  pride,  a  pride  of  almost  ab- 
normal proportions,  indeed,  and  this  rendered  him 
ever  the  prey  of  slights;  and  although  they  were 
almost  always  imaginary  ones,  they  hurt  none  the 
less  on  that  account.  By  ill  fortune  Judge  Driscoll 
had  happened  to  touch  his  sorest  point,  i.e.,  his 
conviction  that  his  brother's  presence  was  welcomer 
everywhere  than  his  own ;  that  he  was  often  invited, 
out  of  mere  courtesy,  where  only  his  brother  was 
wanted,  and  that  in  a  majority  of  cases  he  would 
not  be  included  in  an  invitation  if  he  could  be  left 
out  without  offense.  A  sensitive  nature  like  this 
is  necessarily  subject  to  moods;  moods  which  trav- 
erse the  whole  gamut  of  feeling;  moods  which  know 
all  the  climes  of  emotion,  from  the  sunny  heights  of 
joy  to  the  black  abysses  of  despair.  At  times,  in 
his  seasons  of  deepest  depressions,  Angelo  almost 
wished  that  he  and  his  brother  might  become  seg- 
regated from  each  other  and  be  separate  individuals, 
like  other  men.  But  of  course  as  soon  as  his  mind 
cleared  and  these  diseased  imaginings  passed  away, 
he  shuddered  at  the  repulsive  thought,  and  earnest- 
ly prayed  that  it  might  visit  him  no  more.  To  be 
separate,  and  as  other  men  are!  How  awkward  it 
would  seem;  how  unendurable.  What  would  he 
do  with  his  hands,  his  arms?  How  would  his  legs 
feel?  How  odd,  and  strange,  and  grotesque  every 
action,  attitude,  movement,  gesture  would  be.  To 
sleep  by  himself,  eat  by  himself,  walk  by  himself — 
how  lonely,  how  unspeakably  lonely!  No,  no,  any 
236 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

fate  but  that.  In  every  way  and  from  every  point, 
the  idea  was  revolting. 

This  was  of  course  natural;  to  have  felt  other- 
wise would  have  been  unnatural.  He  had  known 
no  life  but  a  combined  one;  he  had  been  familiar 
with  it  from  his  birth;  he  was  not  able  to  conceive 
of  any  other  as  being  agreeable,  or  even  bearable. 
To  him,  in  the  privacy  of  his  secret  thoughts,  all 
other  men  were  monsters,  deformities:  and  during 
three-fourths  of  his  life  their  aspect  had  filled  him 
with  what  promised  to  be  an  unconquerable  aver- 
sion. But  at  eighteen  his  eye  began  to  take  note  of 
female  beauty;  and  little  by  little,  undefined  long- 
ings grew  up  in  his  heart,  under  whose  softening 
influences  the  old  stubborn  aversion  gradually  di- 
minished, and  finally  disappeared.  Men  were  still 
monstrosities  to  him,  still  deformities,  and  in  his 
sober  moments  he  had  no  desire  to  be  like  them,  but 
their  strange  and  unsocial  and  uncanny  construction 
was  no  longer  offensive  to  him. 

This  had  been  a  hard  day  for  him,  physically  and 
mentally.  He  had  been  called  in  the  morning  be- 
fore he  had  quite  slept  off  the  effects  of  the  liquor 
which  Luigi  had  drunk;  and  so,  for  the  first  half- 
hour  had  had  the  seedy  feeling,  and  languor,  the 
brooding  depression,  the  cobwebby  mouth  and 
druggy  taste  that  come  of  dissipation  and  are  so  ill 
a  preparation  for  bodily  or  intellectual  activities; 
the  long  violent  strain  of  the  reception  had  followed; 
and  this  had  been  followed,  in  turn,  by  the  dreary 
sight-seeing,  the  Judge's  wearying  explanations  and 
laudations  of  the  sights,  and  the  stupefying  clamor 
237 


MARK    TWAIN 

of  the  dogs.  As  a  congruous  conclusion,  a  fitting 
end,  his  feelings  had  been  hurt,  a  slight  had  been 
put  upon  him.  He  would  have  been  glad  to  forego 
dinner  and  betake  himself  to  rest  and  sleep,  but  he 
held  his  peace  and  said  no  word,  for  he  knew  his 
brother,  Luigi,  was  fresh,  unweary,  full  of  life,  spirit, 
energy;  he  would  have  scoffed  at  the  idea  of  wast- 
ing valuable  time  on  a  bed  or  a  sofa,  and  would  have 
refused  permission. 


CHAPTER  IV 

ROWENA  was  dining  out,  Joe  and  Harry  were 
belated  at  play,  there  were  but  three  chairs 
and  four  persons  that  noon  at  the  home  dinner- 
table — the  twins,  the  widow,  and  her  chum,  Aunt 
Betsy  Hale.  The  widow  soon  perceived  that  An- 
gelo's  spirits  were  as  low  as  Luigi's  were  high,  and 
also  that  he  had  a  jaded  look.  Her  motherly  solici- 
tude was  aroused,  and  she  tried  to  get  him  interested 
in  the  talk  and  win  him  to  a  happier  frame  of  mind, 
but  the  cloud  of  sadness  remained  on  his  counte- 
nance. Luigi  lent  his  help,  too.  He  used  a  form  and 
a  phrase  which  he  was  always  accustomed  to  employ 
in  these  circumstances.  He  gave  his  brother  an  affec- 
tionate slap  on  the  shoulder  and  said,  encouragingly : 

"Cheer  up,  the  worst  is  yet  to  come!" 

But  this  did  no  good.  It  never  did.  If  anything, 
it  made  the  matter  worse,  as  a  rule,  because  it 
irritated  Angelo.  This  made  it  a  favorite  with 
Luigi.  By  and  by  the  widow  said: 

"Angelo,  you  are  tired,  you've  overdone  your- 
self; you  go  right  to  bed  after  dinner,  and  get  a 
good  nap  and  a  rest,  then  you'll  be  all  right." 

"Indeed,  I  would  give  anything  if  I  could  do 
that,  madam." 

"And  what's  to  hender,  I'd  like  to  know?  Land, 
239 


MARK    TWAIN 

the  room's  yours  to  do  what  you  please  with!  The 
idea  that  you  can't  do  what  you  like  with  your 
own!" 

"But,  you  see,  there's  one  prime  essential — 
an  essential  of  the  very  first  importance — which 
isn't  my  own." 

"What  is  that?" 

"My  body." 

The  old  ladies  looked  puzzled,  and  Aunt  Betsy 
Hale  said: 

"Why  bless  your  heart,  how  is  that?" 

"It's  my  brother's." 

"Your  brother's!  I  don't  quite  understand.  I 
supposed  it  belonged  to  both  of  you." 

"So  it  does.     But  not  to  both  at  the  same  time." 

"That  is  mighty  curious;  I  don't  see  how  it  can 
be.  I  shouldn't  think  it  could  be  managed  that 
way." 

"Oh,  it's  a  good  enough  arrangement,  and  goes 
very  well;  in  fact,  it  wouldn't  do  to  have  it  other- 
wise. I  find  that  the  teetotalers  and  the  anti- 
teetotalers  hire  the  use  of  the  same  hall  for  their 
meetings.  Both  parties  don't  use  it  at  the  same 
time,  do  they?" 

"You  bet  they  don't!"  said  both  old  ladies  in  a 
breath. 

"And,  moreover,"  said  Aunt  Betsy,  "the  Free- 
thinkers and  the  Baptist  Bible  class  use  the  same 
room  over  the  Market  house,  but  you  can  take  my 
word  for  it  they  don't  mush  up  together  and  use  it 
at  the  same  time." 

"Very  well,"  said  Angelo,  "you  understand  it 
240 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

now.  And  it  stands  to  reason  that  the  arrangement 
couldn't  be  improved.  I'll  prove  it  to  you.  If  our 
legs  tried  to  obey  two  wills,  how  could  we  ever  get 
anywhere?  I  would  start  one  way,  Luigi  would 
start  another,  at  the  same  moment — the  result 
would  be  a  standstill,  wouldn't  it?" 

"As  sure  as  you  are  born!  Now  ain't  that  won- 
derful! A  body  would  never  have  thought  of  it." 

"We  should  always  be  arguing  and  fussing  and 
disputing  over  the  merest  trifles.  We  should  lose 
worlds  of  time,  for  we  couldn't  go  down-stairs  or 
up,  couldn't  go  to  bed,  couldn't  rise,  couldn't  wash, 
couldn't  dress,  couldn't  stand  up,  couldn't  sit  down, 
couldn't  even  cross  our  legs,  without  calling  a  meet- 
ing first  and  explaining  the  case  and  passing  resolu- 
tions, and  getting  consent.  It  wouldn't  ever  do — 
now  would  it?" 

"Do?  Why,  it  would  wear  a  person  out  in  a 
week!  Did  you  ever  hear  anything  like  it,  Patsy 
Cooper?" 

"Oh,  you'll  find  there's  more  than  one  thing 
about  them  that  ain't  commonplace,"  said  the 
widow,  with  the  complacent  air  of  a  person  with  a 
property  right  in  a  novelty  that  is  under  admiring 
scrutiny. 

"Well,  now,  how  ever  do  you  manage  it?  I 
don't  mind  saying  I'm  suffering  to  know." 

"He  who  made  us,"  said  Angelo  reverently,  "and 
with  us  this  difficulty,  also  provided  a  way  out  of 
it.  By  a  mysterious  law  of  our  being,  each  of  us 
has  utter  and  indisputable  command  of  our  body 
a  week  at  a  time,  turn  and  turn  about." 
241 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Well,  I  never!    Now  ain't  that  beautiful!" 

"Yes,  it  is  beautiful  and  infinitely  wise  and  just. 
The  week  ends  every  Saturday  at  midnight  to  the 
minute,  to  the  second,  to  the  last  shade  of  a  fraction 
of  a  second,  infallibly,  unerringly,  and  in  that  instant 
the  one  brother's  power  over  the  body  vanishes  and 
the  other  brother  takes  possession,  asleep  or  awake." 

"How  marvelous  are  His  ways,  and  past  finding 
out!" 

Luigi  said:  "So  exactly  to  the  instant  does  the 
change  come,  that  during  our  stay  in  many  of  the 
great  cities  of  the  world,  the  public  clocks  were 
regulated  by  it;  and  as  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
private  clocks  and  watches  were  set  and  corrected  in 
accordance  with  the  public  clocks,  we  really  fur- 
nished the  standard  time  for  the  entire  city." 

"Don't  tell  me  that  He  don't  do  miracles  any 
more!  Blowing  down  the  walls  of  Jericho  with 
rams'  horns  wa'n't  as  difficult,  in  my  opinion." 

"And  that  is  not  all,"  said  Angelo.  "A  thing 
that  is  even  more  marvelous,  perhaps,  is  the  fact 
that  the  change  takes  note  of  longitude  and  fits 
itself  to  the  meridian  we  are  on.  Luigi  is  in  com- 
mand this  week.  Now,  if  on  Saturday  night  at  a 
moment  before  midnight  we  could  fly  in  an  instant 
to  a  point  fifteen  degrees  west  of  here,  he  would 
hold  possession  of  the  power  another  hour,  for  the 
change  observes  local  time  and  no  other." 

Betsy  Hale  was  deeply  impressed,  and  said  with 
solemnity : 

"Patsy  Cooper,  for  aVtail  it  lays  over  the  Passage 
of  the  Red  Sea." 

242 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

"Now,  I  shouldn't  go  as  far  as  that,"  said  Aunt 
Patsy,  "but  if  you've  a  mind  to  say  Sodom  and 
Gomorrah,  I  am  with  you,  Betsy  Hale." 

"I  am  agreeable,  then,  though  I  do  think  I  was 
right,  and  I  believe  Parson  Maltby  would  say  the 
same.  Well,  now,  there's  another  thing.  Suppose 
one  of  you  wants  to  borrow  the  legs  a  minute  from 
the  one  that's  got  them,  could  he  let  him?" 

"Yes,  but  we  hardly  ever  do  that.  There  were 
disagreeable  results,  several  times,  and  so  we  very 
seldom  ask  or  grant  the  privilege,  nowadays,  and 
we  never  even  think  of  such  a  thing  unless  the  case 
is  extremely  urgent.  Besides,  a  week's  possession 
at  a  time  seems  so  little  that  we  can't  bear  to  spare 
a  minute  of  it.  People  who  have  the  use  of  their 
legs  all  the  time  never  think  of  what  a  blessing  it  is, 
of  course.  It  never  occurs  to  them;  it's  just  their 
natural  ordinary  condition,  and  so  it  does  not  excite 
them  at  all.  But  when  I  wake  up,  on  Sunday 
morning,  and  it's  my  week  and  I  feel  the  power  all 
through  me,  oh,  such  a  wave  of  exultation  and 
thanksgiving  goes  surging  over  me,  and  I  want  to 
shout  'I  can  walk!  I  can  walk!'  Madam,  do  you 
ever,  at  your  uprising,  want  to  shout  'I  can  walk! 
I  can  walk!'?" 

"No,  you  poor  unfortunate  cretur',  but  I'll  never 
get  out  of  my  bed  again  without  doing  it!  Laws, 
to  think  I've  had  this  unspeakable  blessing  all  my 
long  life  and  never  had  the  grace  to  thank  the  good 
Lord  that  gave  it  to  me!" 

Tears  stood  in  the  eyes  of  both  the  old  ladies  and 
the  widow  said,  softly: 

243 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Betsy  Hale,  we  have  learned  something,  you 
and  me." 

The  conversation  now  drifted  wide,  but  by  and  by 
floated  back  once  more  to  that  admired  detail,  the 
rigid  and  beautiful  impartiality  with  which  the  pos- 
session of  power  had  been  distributed  between  the 
twins.  Aunt  Betsy  saw  in  it  a  far  finer  justice  than 
human  law  exhibits  in  related  cases.  She  said: 

"In  my  opinion  it  ain't  right  now,  and  never  has 
been  right,  the  way  a  twin  born  a  quarter  of  a 
minute  sooner  than  the  other  one  gets  all  the  land 
and  grandeurs  and  nobilities  in  the  old  countries  and 
his  brother  has  to  go  bare  and  be  a  nobody.  Which 
of  you  was  born  first?" 

Angelo's  head  was  resting  against  Luigi's;  weari- 
ness had  overcome  him,  and  for  the  past  five  min- 
utes he  had  been  peacefully  sleeping.  The  old 
ladies  had  dropped  their  voices  to  a  lulling  drone,  to 
help  him  to  steal  the  rest  his  brother  wouldn't  take 
him  up-stairs  to  get.  Luigi  listened  a  moment  to 
Angelo's  regular  breathing,  then  said  in  a  voice 
barely  audible: 

"We  were  both  born  at  the  same  time,  but  I  am 
six  months  older  than  he  is." 

"For  the  land's  sake!" 

"'Sh!  don't  wake  him  up;  he  wouldn't  like  my 
telling  this.  It  has  always  been  kept  secret  till 
now." 

"But  how  in  the  world  can  it  be?  If  you  were 
both  born  at  the  same  time,  how  can  one  of  you  be 
older  than  the  other?" 

*  It  is  very  simple,  and  I  assure  you  it  is  true.  I 
244 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

was  born  with  a  full  crop  of  hair,  he  was  as  bald  as 
an  egg  for  six  months.  I  could  walk  six  months 
before  he  could  make  a  step.  I  finished  teething 
six  months  ahead  of  him.  I  began  to  take  solids  six 
months  before  he  left  the  breast.  I  began  to  talk 
six  months  before  he  could  say  a  word.  Last,  and 
absolutely  unassailable  proof,  the  sutures  in  my  skull 
closed  six  months  ahead  of  his.  Always  just  that 
six  months'  difference  to  a  day.  Was  that  accident  ? 
Nobody  is  going  to  claim  that,  I'm  sure.  It  was 
ordained — it  was  law — it  had  its  meaning,  and  we 
know  what  that  meaning  was.  Now  what  does  this 
overwhelming  body  of  evidence  establish  ?  It  estab- 
lishes just  one  thing,  and  that  thing  it  establishes 
beyond  any  peradventure  whatever.  Friends,  we 
would  not  have  it  known  for  the  world,  and  I  must 
beg  you  to  keep  it  strictly  to  yourselves,  but  the 
truth  is,  we  are  no  more  twins  than  you  are." 

The  two  old  ladies  were  stunned,  paralyzed — 
petrified,  one  may  almost  say — and  could  only  sit 
and  gaze  vacantly  at  each  other  for  some  moments; 
then  Aunt  Betsy  Hale  said  impressively: 

"There's  no  getting  around  proof  like  that,  I 
do  believe  it's  the  most  amazing  thing  I  ever  heard 
of."  She  sat  silent  a  moment  or  two  and  breathing 
hard  with  excitement,  then  she  looked  up  and  sur- 
veyed the  strangers  steadfastly  a  little  while,  and 
added:  "Well,  it  does  beat  me,  but  I  would  have 
took  you  for  twins  anywhere." 

"So  would  I,  so  would  I,"  said  Aunt  Patsy  with 
the  emphasis  of  a  certainty  that  is  not  impaired  by 
any  shade  of  doubt. 

245 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Anybody  would — anybody  in  the  world,  I  don't 
care  who  he  is,"  said  Aunt  Betsy  with  decision. 

"You  won't  tell,"  said  Luigi,  appealingly. 

"Oh,  dear,  no!"  answered  both  ladies  promptly, 
"you  can  trust  us,  don't  you  be  afraid." 

"That  is  good  of  you,  and  kind.  Never  let  on; 
treat  us  always  as  if  we  were  twins." 

"You  can  depend  on  us,"  said  Aunt  Betsy,  "but 
it  won't  be  easy,  because  now  that  I  know  you  ain't 
you  don't  seem  so." 

Luigi  muttered  to  himself  with  satisfaction: 
"That  swindle  has  gone  through  without  change  of 
cars." 

It  was  not  very  kind  of  him  to  load  the  poor 
things  up  with  a  secret  like  that,  which  would  be 
always  flying  to  their  tongues'  ends  every  time  they 
heard  any  one  speak  of  the  strangers  as  twins,  and 
would  become  harder  and  harder  to  hang  on  to  with 
every  recurrence  of  the  temptation  to  tell  it,  while 
the  torture  of  retaining  it  would  increase  with  every 
new  strain  that  was  applied;  but  he  never  thought 
of  that,  and  probably  would  not  have  worried  much 
about  it  if  he  had. 

A  visitor  was  announced — some  one  to  see  the 
twins.  They  withdrew  to  the  parlor,  and  the  two 
old  ladies  began  to  discuss  with  interest  the  strange 
things  which  they  had  been  listening  to.  When 
they  had  finished  the  matter  to  their  satisfaction, 
and  Aunt  Betsy  rose  to  go,  she  stopped  to  ask  a 
question : 

"How  does  things  come  on  between  Roweny  and 
Tom  Driscoll?" 

246 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

"Well,  about  the  same.  He  writes  tolerable 
often,  and  she  answers  tolerable  seldom." 

"Where  is  he?" 

"In  St.  Louis,  I  believe,  though  he's  such  a  gad- 
about that  a  body  can't  be  very  certain  of  him,  I 
reckon." 

"Don't  Roweny  know?" 

1 '  Oh,  yes,  like  enough.    I  haven't  asked  her  lately." 

"Do  you  know  how  him  and  the  Judge  are  get- 
ting along  now?" 

"First  rate,  I  believe.  Mrs.  Pratt  says  so;  and 
being  right  in  the  house,  and  sister  to  the  one  and 
aunt  to  t'other,  of  course  she  ought  to  know.  She 
says  the  Judge  is  real  fond  of  him  when  he's  away; 
but  frets  when  he's  around  and  is  vexed  with  his 
ways,  and  not  sorry  to  have  him  go  again.  He  has 
been  gone  three  weeks  this  time — a  pleasant  thing 
for  both  of  them,  I  reckon." 

"Tom's  ruther  harum-scarum,  but  there  ain't 
anything  bad  in  him,  I  guess." 

"Oh,  no,  he's  just  young,  that's  all.  Still, 
twenty-three  is  old,  in  one  way.  A  young  man 
ought  to  be  earning  his  living  by  that  time.  If 
Tom  were  doing  that,  or  was  even  trying  to  do  it, 
the  Judge  would  be  a  heap  better  satisfied  with  him. 
Tom's  always  going  to  begin,  but  somehow  he  can't 
seem  to  find  just  the  opening  he  likes." 

"Well,  now,  it's  partly  the  Judge's  own  fault. 
Promising  the  boy  his  property  wasn't  the  way  to 
set  him  to  earning  a  fortune  of  his  own.  But  what 
do  you  think — is  Roweny  beginning  to  lean  any 
toward  him,  or  ain't  she?" 
247 


MARK    TWAIN 

Aunt  Patsy  had  a  secret  in  her  bosom;  she 
wanted  to  keep  it  there,  but  nature  was  too  strong 
for  her.  She  drew  Aunt  Betsy  aside,  and  said  in 
her  most  confidential  and  mysterious  manner: 

"Don't  you  breathe  a  syllable  to  a.  soul — I'm 
going  to  tell  you  something.  In  my  opinion  Tom 
Driscoll's  chances  were  considerable  better  yester- 
day than  they  are  to-day." 

"Patsy  Cooper,  what  do  you  mean?" 

"It's  so,  as  sure  as  you're  born.  I  wish  you 
could  'a'  been  at  breakfast  and  seen  for  yourself." 

"You  don't  mean  it!" 

"Well,  if  I'm  any  judge,  there's  a  leaning — 
there's  a  leaning,  sure." 

"My  land!    Which  one  of  'em  is  it?" 

"I  can't  say  for  certain,  but  I  think  it's  the 
youngest  one — Anjy." 

Then  there  were  handshakings,  and  congratula- 
tions, and  hopes,  and  so  on,  and  the  old  ladies 
parted,  perfectly  happy — the  one  in  knowing  some- 
thing which  the  rest  of  the  town  didn't,  and  the 
other  in  having  been  the  sole  person  able  to  furnish 
that  knowledge. 

The  visitor  who  had  called  to  see  the  twins  was 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Hotchkiss,  pastor  of  the  Baptist 
church.  At  the  reception  Angelo  had  told  him  he 
had  lately  experienced  a  change  in  his  religious 
views,  and  was  now  desirous  of  becoming  a  Baptist, 
and  would  immediately  join  Mr.  Hotchkiss's  church. 
There  was  no  time  to  say  more,  and  the  brief  talk 
ended  at  that  point.  The  minister  was  much  grati- 
fied, and  had  dropped  in  for  a  moment  now,  to 
248 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

invite  the  twins  to  attend  his  Bible  class  at  eight 
that  evening.  Angelo  accepted,  and  was  expecting 
Luigi  to  decline,  but  he  did  not,  because  he  knew 
that  the  Bible  class  and  the  Free-thinkers  met  in  the 
same  room,  and  he  wanted  to  treat  his  brother  to 
the  embarrassment  of  being  caught  in  free-thinking 
company. 
17 


CHAPTER  V 

[A  long  and  vigorous  quarrel  follows,  between  the  twins.  And 
there  is  plenty  to  quarrel  about,  for  Angelo  was  always  seeking 
truth,  and  this  obliged  him  to  change  and  improve  his  religion 
with  frequency,  which  wearied  Luigi,  and  annoyed  him  too; 
for  he  had  to  be  present  at  each  new  enlistment — which  placed 
him  in  the  false  position  of  seeming  to  indorse  and  approve  his 
brother's  fickleness;  moreover,  he  had  to  go  to  Angelo 's  pro- 
hibition meetings,  and  he  hated  them.  On  the  other  hand, 
when  it  was  his  week  to  command  the  legs  he  gave  Angelo  just 
cause  of  complaint,  for  he  took  him  to  circuses  and  horse-races 
and  fandangoes,  exposing  him  to  all  sorts  of  censure  and  criticism; 
and  he  drank,  too;  and  whatever  he  drank  went  to  Angelo 's 
head  instead  of  his  own  and  made  him  act  disgracefully.  When 
the  evening  was  come,  the  two  attended  the  Free-thinkers'  meet- 
ing, where  Angelo  was  sad  and  silent;  then  came  the  Bible 
class  and  looked  upon  him  coldly,  finding  him  in  such  company. 
Then  they  went  to  Wilson's  house  and  Chapter  XI  of  Pudd  'nhead 
Wilson  follows,  which  tells  of  the  girl  seen  in  Tom  Driscoll's 
room;  and  closes  with  the  kicking  of  Tom  by  Luigi  at  the  anti- 
temperance  mass -meeting  of  the  Sons  of  Liberty;  with  the 
addition  of  some  account  of  Roxy's  adventures  as  a  chamber- 
maid on  a  Mississippi  boat.  Her  exchange  of  the  children  had 
been  flippantly  and  farcically  described  in  an  earlier  chapter.] 

NEXT  morning  all  the  town  was  a-buzz  with  great 
news ;  Pudd'nhead  Wilson  had  a  law  case !    The 
public  astonishment  was  so  great  and  the  public  curi- 
osity so  intense,  that  when  the  justice  of  the  peace 
opened  his  court,  the  place  was  packed  with  people, 
and  even  the  windows  were  full.    Everybody  was 
250 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

flushed  and  perspiring;  the  summer  heat  was  almost 
unendurable. 

Tom  Driscoll  had  brought  a  charge  of  assault  and 
battery  against  the  twins.  Robert  Allen  was  re- 
tained by  Driscoll,  David  Wilson  by  the  defense. 
Tom,  his  native  cheerfulness  unannihilated  by  his 
back-breaking  and  bone-bruising  passage  across  the 
massed  heads  of  the  Sons  of  Liberty  the  previous 
night,  laughed  his  little  customary  laugh,  and  said 
to  Wilson: 

"I've  kept  my  promise,  you  see;  I'm  throwing 
my  business  your  way.  Sooner  than  I  was  expect- 
ing, too." 

"It's  very  good  of  you — particularly  if  you 
mean  to  keep  it  up." 

"Well,  I  can't  tell  about  that  yet.  But  we'll  see. 
If  I  find  you  deserve  it  I'll  take  you  under  my  pro- 
tection and  make  your  fame  and  fortune  for  you." 

"I'll  try  to  deserve  it,  Tom." 

A  jury  was  sworn  in;   then  Mr.  Allen  said: 

"We  will  detain  your  honor  but  a  moment  with 
this  case.  It  is  not  one  where  any  doubt  of  the  fact 
of  the  assault  can  enter  in.  These  gentlemen — the 
accused — kicked  my  client  at  the  Market  Hall  last 
night ;  they  kicked  him  with  violence ;  with  extraor- 
dinary violence;  with  even  unprecedented  violence, 
I  may  say;  insomuch  that  he  was  lifted  entirely  off 
his  feet  and  discharged  into  the  midst  of  the  audi- 
ence. We  can  prove  this  by  four  hundred  wit- 
nesses— we  shall  call  but  three.  Mr.  Harkness  will 
take  the  stand." 

Mr.  Harkness,  being  sworn,  testified  that  he  was 
251 


MARK    TWAIN 

chairman  upon  the  occasion  mentioned;  that  he  was 
close  at  hand  and  saw  the  defendants  in  this  action 
kick  the  plaintiff  into  the  air  and  saw  him  descend 
among  the  audience. 

"Take  the  witness,"  said  Allen. 

"Mr.  Harkness,"  said  Wilson,  "you  say  you 
saw  these  gentlemen,  my  clients,  kick  the  plaintiff. 
Are  you  sure — and  please  remember  that  you  are 
on  oath — are  you  perfectly  sure  that  you  saw  both 
of  them  kick  him,  or  only  one?  Now  be  careful." 

A  bewildered  look  began  to  spread  itself  over  the 
witness's  face.  He  hesitated,  stammered,  but  got 
out  nothing.  His  eyes  wandered  to  the  twins  and 
fixed  themselves  there  with  a  vacant  gaze. 

"Please  answer,  Mr.  Harkness,  you  are  keeping 
the  court  waiting.  It  is  a  very  simple  question." 

Counsel  for  the  prosecution  broke  in  with  impa- 
tience : 

"Your  honor,  the  question  is  an  irrelevant  trivial- 
ity. Necessarily,  they  both  kicked  him,  for  they 
have  but  the  one  pair  of  legs,  and  both  are  respon- 
sible for  them." 

Wilson  said,  sarcastically: 

"Will  your  honor  permit  this  new  witness  to  be 
sworn?  He  seems  to  possess  knowledge  which  can 
be  of  the  utmost  value  just  at  this  moment — knowl- 
edge which  would  at  once  dispose  of  what  every  one 
must  see  is  a  very  difficult  question  in  this  case. 
Brother  Allen,  will  you  take  the  stand?" 

"Go  on  with  your  case!"  said  Allen,  petulantly. 
The  audience  laughed,  and  got  a  warning  from  the 
court. 

252 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

"Now,  Mr.  Harkness,"  said  Wilson,  insinuat- 
ingly, "we  shall  have  to  insist  upon  an  answer  to 
that  question." 

"I — er — well,  of  course,  I  do  not  absolutely 
know,  but  in  my  opinion — " 

"Never  mind  your  opinion,  sir — answer  the 
question." 

"I — why,  I  can't  answer  it." 

"That  will  do,  Mr.  Harkness.     Stand  down." 

The  audience  tittered,  and  the  discomfited  witness 
retired  in  a  state  of  great  embarrassment. 

Mr.  Wakeman  took  the  stand  and  swore  that  he 
saw  the  twins  kick  the  plaintiff  off  the  platform. 
The  defense  took  the  witness. 

"Mr.  Wakeman,  you  have  sworn  that  you  saw 
these  gentlemen  kick  the  plaintiff.  Do  I  understand 
you  to  swear  that  you  saw  them  both  do  it?" 

"Yes,  sir," — with  decision. 

"How  do  you  know  that  both  did  it?" 

"Because  I  saw  them  do  it." 

The  audience  laughed,  and  got  another  warning 
from  the  court. 

"But  by  what  means  do  you  know  that  both,  and 
not  one,  did  it?" 

"Well,  in  the  first  place,  the  insult  was  given  to 
both  of  them  equally,  for  they  were  called  a  pair  of 
scissors.  Of  course  they  would  both  want  to  resent 
it,  and  so — " 

"Wait!  You  are  theorizing  now.  Stick  to  facts 
— counsel  will  attend  to  the  arguments.  Go  on." 

"Well,  they  both  went  over  there — that  I  saw." 

"Very  good.     Go  on." 
253 


MARK    TWAIN 

"And  they  both  kicked  him — I  swear  to  it." 

"Mr.  Wakeman,  was  Count  Luigi,  here,  willing 
to  join  the  Sons  of  Liberty  last  night?" 

"Yes,  sir,  he  was.  He  did  join,  too,  and  drank 
a  glass  or  two  of  whisky,  like  a  man." 

"Was  his  brother  willing  to  join?" 

"No,  sir,  he  wasn't.  He  is  a  teetotaler,  and  was 
elected  through  a  mistake." 

"Was  he  given  a  glass  of  whisky?" 

"Yes,  sir,  but  of  course  that  was  another  mis- 
take, and  not  intentional.  He  wouldn't  drink  it. 
He  set  it  down."  A  slight  pause,  then  he  added, 
casually  and  quite  simply:  "The  plaintiff  reached 
for  it  and  hogged  it." 

There  was  a  fine  outburst  of  laughter,  but  as  the 
justice  was  caught  out  himself,  his  reprimand  was 
not  very  vigorous. 

Mr.  Allen  jumped  up  and  exclaimed:  "I  protest 
against  these  foolish  irrelevancies.  What  have  they 
to  do  with  the  case?" 

Wilson  said:  "Calm  yourself,  brother,  it  was 
only  an  experiment.  Now,  Mr.  Wakeman,  if  one 
of  these  gentlemen  chooses  to  join  an  association 
and  the  other  doesn't;  and  if  one  of  them  enjoys 
whisky  and  the  other  doesn't,  but  sets  it  aside  and 
leaves  it  unprotected"  (titter  from  the  audience), 
"it  seems  to  show  that  they  have  independent 
minds,  and  tastes,  and  preferences,  and  that  one 
of  them  is  able  to  approve  of  a  thing  at  the  very 
moment  that  the  other  is  heartily  disapproving  of 
it.  Doesn't  it  seem  so  to  you?" 

"Certainly  it  does.     It's  perfectly  plain." 
254 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

"Now,  then,  it  might  be — I  only  say  it  might 
be — that  one  of  these  brothers  wanted  to  kick  the 
plaintiff  last  night,  and  that  the  other  didn't  want 
that  humiliating  punishment  inflicted  upon  him  in 
that  public  way  and  before  all  those  people.  Isn't 
that  possible?" 

"Of  course  it  is.  It's  more  than  possible.  I 
don't  believe  the  blond  one  would  kick  anybody. 
It  was  the  other  one  that — " 

"Silence!"  shouted  the  plaintiff's  counsel,  and 
went  on  with  an  angry  sentence  which  was  lost  in 
the  wave  of  laughter  that  swept  the  house. 

"That  will  do,  Mr.  Wakeman,"  said  Wilson, 
"you  may  stand  down." 

The  third  witness  was  called.  He  had  seen  the 
twins  kick  the  plaintiff.  Mr.  Wilson  took  the 
witness. 

"Mr.  Rogers,  you  say  you  saw  these  accused 
gentlemen  kick  the  plaintiff?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Both  of  them?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Which  of  them  kicked  him  first?" 

"Why — they — they  both  kicked  him  at  the  same 
time." 

""Are  you  perfectly  sure  of  that?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"What  makes  you  sure  of  it?" 

"Why,  I  stood  right  behind  them,  and  saw  them 
do  it." 

"How  many  kicks  were  delivered?" 

"Only  one." 

255 


MARK    TWAIN 

"If  two  men  kick,  the  result  should  be  two  kicks, 
shouldn't  it?" 

"Why — why — yes,  as  a  rule." 

"Then  what  do  you  think  went  with  the  other 
kick?" 

"I — well — the  fact  is,  I  wasn't  thinking  of  two 
being  necessary,  this  time." 

"What  do  you  think  now?" 

"Well,  I — I'm  sure  I  don't  quite  know  what  to 
think,  but  I  reckon  that  one  of  them  did  half  of  the 
kick  and  the  other  one  did  the  other  half." 

Somebody  in  the  crowd  sung  out:  "It's  the  first 
sane  thing  that  any  of  them  has  said." 

The  audience  applauded.  The  judge  said:  "Si- 
lence! or  I  will  clear  the  court." 

Mr.  Allen  looked  pleased,  but  Wilson  did  not 
seem  disturbed.  He  said : 

"Mr.  Rogers,  you  have  favored  us  with  what  you 
think  and  what  you  reckon,  but  as  thinking  and 
reckoning  are  not  evidence,  I  will  now  give  you  a 
chance  to  come  out  with  something  positive,  one 
way  or  the  other,  and  shall  require  you  to  produce 
it.  I  will  ask  the  accused  to  stand  up  and  repeat 
the  phenomenal  kick  of  last  night. ' '  The  twins  stood 
up.  "Now,  Mr.  Rogers,  please  stand  behind  them." 

A  Voice:  "No,  stand  in  front!"  (Laughter. 
Silenced  by  the  court.)  Another  Voice:  "No,  give 
Tommy  another  highst!"  (Laughter.  Sharply  re- 
buked by  the  court.) 

"Now,  then,  Mr.  Rogers,  two  kicks  shall  be  de- 
livered, one  after  the  other,  and  I  give  you  my 
word  that  at  least  one  of  the  two  shall  be  delivered 
256 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

by  one  of  the  twins  alone,  without  the  slightest 
assistance  from  his  brother.  Watch  sharply,  for  you 
have  got  to  render  a  decision  without  any  if's  and 
and's  in  it."  Rogers  bent  himself  behind  the  twins 
with  his  palms  just  above  his  knees,  in  the  modern 
attitude  of  the  catcher  at  a  baseball  match>  and 
riveted  his  eyes  on  the  pair  of  legs  in  front  of  him. 
"Are  you  ready,  Mr.  Rogers?" 

"Ready,  sir." 

"Kick!" 

The  kick  was  launched. 

"Have  you  got  that  one  classified,  Mr.  Rogers?" 

"Let  me  study  a  minute,  sir." 

"Take  as  much  time  as  you  please.  Let  me 
know  when  you  are  ready." 

For  as  much  as  a  minute  Rogers  pondered,  with  all 
eyes  and  a  breathless  interest  fastened  upon  him. 
Then  he  gave  the  word:  "Ready,  sir." 

"Kick!" 

The  kick  that  followed  was  an  exact  duplicate  of 
the  first  one. 

"Now,  then,  Mr.  Rogers,  one  of  those  kicks  was 
an  individual  kick,  not  a  mutual  one.  You  will  now 
State  positively  which  was  the  mutual  one." 

The  witness  said,  with  a  crestfallen  look: 

"I've  got  to  give  it  up.  There  ain't  any  man  in 
the  world  that  could  tell  t'other  from  which,  sir." 

"Do  you  still  assert  that  last  night's  kick  was  a 
mutual  kick?" 

"Indeed,  I  don't,  sir." 

"That  will  do,  Mr.  Rogers.  If  my  brother  Allen 
desires  to  address  the  court,  your  honor,  very  well; 
257 


MARK    TWAIN 

but  as  far  as  I  am  concerned  I  am  ready  to  let  the 
case  be  at  once  delivered  into  the  hands  of  this 
intelligent  jury  without  comment." 

Mr.  Justice  Robinson  had  been  in  office  only  two 
months,  and  in  that  short  time  had  not  had  many 
cases  to  try,  of  course.  He  had  no  knowledge  of 
laws  and  courts  except  what  he  had  picked  up  since 
he  came  into  office.  He  was  a  sore  trouble  to  the 
lawyers,  for  his  rulings  were  pretty  eccentric  some- 
times, and  he  stood  by  them  with  Roman  simplicity 
and  fortitude ;  but  the  people  were  well  satisfied  with 
him,  for  they  saw  that  his  intentions  were  always 
right,  that  he  was  entirely  impartial,  and  that  he 
usually  made  up  in  good  sense  what  he  lacked  in 
technique,  so  to  speak.  He  now  perceived  that 
there  was  likely  to  be  a  miscarriage  of  justice  here, 
and  he  rose  to  the  occasion. 

"Wait  a  moment,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "it  is 
plain  that  an  assault  has  been  committed — it  is 
plain  to  anybody;  but  the  way  things  are  going, 
the  guilty  will  certainly  escape  conviction.  I  can- 
not allow  this.  Now — " 

"But,  your  honor!"  said  Wilson,  interrupting  him, 
earnestly  but  respectfully,  "you  are  deciding  the 
case  yourself,  whereas  the  jury — " 

"Never  mind  the  jury,  Mr.  Wilson;  the  jury  will 
have  a  chance  when  there  is  a  reasonable  doubt  for 
them  to  take  hold  of — which  there  isn't,  so  far. 
There  is  no  doubt  whatever  that  an  assault  has  been 
committed.  The  attempt  to  show  that  both  of  the 
accused  committed  it  has  failed.  Are  they  both  to 
escape  justice  on  that  account?  Not  in  this  court, 
258 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

if  I  can  prevent  it.  It  appears  to  have  been  a  mis- 
take to  bring  the  charge  against  them  as  a  corpora- 
tion; each  should  have  been  charged  in  his  capacity 
as  an  individual,  and — " 

"But,  your  honor!"  said  Wilson,  "in  fairness  to 
my  clients  I  must  insist  that  inasmuch  as  the  prose- 
cution did  not  separate  the — " 

"No  wrong  will  be  done  your  clients,  sir — they 
will  be  protected;  also  the  public  and  the  offended 
laws.  Mr.  Allen,  you  will  amend  your  pleadings, 
and  put  one  of  the  accused  on  trial  at  a  time." 

Wilson  broke  in:  "But,  your  honor!  this  is 
wholly  unprecedented!  To  imperil  an  accused  per- 
son by  arbitrarily  altering  and  widening  the  charge 
against  him  in  order  to  compass  his  conviction  when 
the  charge  as  originally  brought  promises  to  fail  to 
convict,  is  a  thing  unheard  of  before." 

"Unheard  of  where?11 

"In  the  courts  of  this  or  any  other  state." 

The  Judge  said  with  dignity:  "I  am  not  ac- 
quainted with  the  customs  of  other  courts,  and  am 
not  concerned  to  know  what  they  are.  I  am  respon- 
sible for  this  court,  and  I  cannot  conscientiously 
allow  my  judgment  to  be  warped  and  my  judicial 
liberty  hampered  by  trying  to  conform  to  the 
caprices  of  other  courts,  be  they — 

"But,  your  honor,  the  oldest  and  highest  courts 
in  Europe — " 

"This  court  is  not  run  on  the  European  plan, 

Mr.  Wilson;   it  is  not  run  on  any  plan  but  its  own. 

It  has  a  plan  of  its  own;   and  that  plan  is,  to  find 

justice  for  both  State  and  accused,  no  matter  what 

259 


MARK    TWAIN 

happens  to  be  practice  and  custom  in  Europe  or 
anywhere  else."  (Great  applause.)  "Silence!  It 
has  not  been  the  custom  of  this  court  to  imitate 
other  courts;  it  has  not  been  the  custom  of  this 
court  to  take  shelter  behind  the  decisions  of  other 
courts,  and  we  will  not  begin  now.  We  will  do  the 
best  we  can  by  the  light  that  God  has  given  us,  and 
while  this  court  continues  to  have  His  approval,  it 
will  remain  indifferent  to  what  other  organizations 
may  think  of  it."  (Applause.)  "Gentlemen,  I 
must  have  order! — quiet  yourselves!  Mr.  Allen, 
you  will  now  proceed  against  the  prisoners  one  at  a 
time.  Go  on  with  the  case." 

Allen  was  not  at  his  ease.  However,  after  whis- 
pering a  moment  with  his  client  and  with  one  or 
two  other  people,  he  rose  and  said: 

"Your  honor,  I  find  it  to  be  reported  and  be- 
lieved that  the  accused  are  able  to  act  independently 
in  many  wa3Ts,  but  that  this  independence  does  not 
extend  to  their  legs,  authority  over  their  legs  being 
vested  exclusively  in  the  one  brother  during  a 
specific  term  of  days,  and  then  passing  to  the  other 
brother  for  a  like  term,  and  so  on,  by  regular  alter- 
nation. I  could  call  witnesses  who  would  prove 
that  the  accused  had  revealed  to  them  the  existence 
of  this  extraordinary  fact,  and  had  also  made  known 
which  of  them  was  in  possession  of  the  legs  yester- 
day— and  this  would,  of  course,  indicate  where  the 
guilt  of  the  assault  belongs — but  as  this  would  be 
mere  hearsay  evidence,  these  revelations  not  having 
been  made  under  oath — " 

"Never  mind  about  that,  Mr.  Allen.  It  may  not 
260 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

all  be  hearsay.     We  shall  see.     It  may  at  least  help 
to  put  us  on  the  right  track.     Call  the  witnesses." 

"Then  I  will  call  Mr.  John  Buckstone,  who  is 
now  present,  and  I  beg  that  Mrs.  Patsy  Cooper  may 
be  sent  for.  Take  the  stand,  Mr.  Buckstone." 

Buckstone  took  the  oath,  and  then  testified  that 
on  the  previous  evening  the  Count  Angelo  Capello 
had  protested  against  going  to  the  hall,  and  had 
called  all  present  to  witness  that  he  was  going  by 
compulsion  and  would  not  go  if  he  could  help  him- 
self. Also,  that  the  Count  Luigi  had  replied  sharply 
that  he  would  go,  just  the  same,  and  that  he,  Count 
Luigi,  would  see  to  that  himself.  Also,  that  upon 
Count  Angelo's  complaining  about  being  kept  on  his 
legs  so  long,  Count  Luigi  retorted  with  apparent 
surprise,  "Your  legs! — I  like  your  impudence!" 

"Now  we  are  getting  at  the  kernel  of  the  thing," 
observed  the  Judge,  with  grave  and  earnest  satisfac- 
tion. "It  looks  as  if  the  Count  Luigi  was  in  pos- 
session of  the  battery  at  the  time  of  the  assault." 

Nothing  further  was  elicited  from  Mr.  Buckstone 
on  direct  examination.  Mr.  Wilson  took  the  witness. 

"Mr.  Buckstone,  about  what  time  was  it  that  that 
conversation  took  place?" 

"Toward  nine  yesterday  evening,  sir." 

"Did  you  then  proceed  directly  to  the  hall?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"How  long  did  it  take  you  to  go  there?" 

"Well,  we  walked;  and  as  it  was  from  the  ex- 
treme edge  of  the  town,  and  there  was  no  hurry,  I 
judge  it  took  us  about  twenty  minutes,  maybe  a 
trifle  more." 

261 


MARK    TWAIN 

"About  what  hour  was  the  kick  delivered?" 

"About  thirteen  minutes  and  a  half  to  ten." 

"Admirable!  You  are  a  pattern  witness,  Mr. 
Buckstone.  How  did  you  happen  to  look  at  your 
watch  at  that  particular  moment?" 

"I  always  do  it  when  I  see  an  assault.  It's  likely 
I  shall  be  called  as  a  witness,  and  it's  a  good  point 
to  have." 

"It  would  be  well  if  others  were  as  thoughtful. 
Was  anything  said,  between  the  conversation  at  my 
house  and  the  assault,  upon  the  detail  which  we  are 
now  examining  into?" 

"No,  sir." 

"If  power  over  the  mutual  legs  was  in  the  pos- 
session of  one  brother  at  nine,  and  passed  into  the 
possession  of  the  other  one  during  the  next  thirty  or 
forty  minutes,  do  you  think  you  could  have  de- 
tected the  change?" 

"By  no  means!" 

"That  is  all,  Mr.  Buckstone." 

Mrs.  Patsy  Cooper  was  called.  The  crowd  made 
way  for  her,  and  she  came  smiling  and  bowing 
through  the  narrow  human  lane,  with  Betsy  Hale,  as 
escort  and  support,  smiling  and  bowing  in  her  wake, 
the  audience  breaking  into  welcoming  cheers  as  the 
old  favorites  filed  along.  The  Judge  did  not  check 
this  kindly  demonstration  of  homage  and  affection, 
but  let  it  run  its  course  unrebuked. 

The  old  ladies  stopped  and  shook  hands  with  the 

twins  with  effusion,  then  gave  the  Judge  a  friendly 

nod,  and  bustled  into  the  seats  provided  for  them. 

They  immediately  began  to  deliver  a  volley  of  eager 

262 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

questions  at  the  friends  around  them:  "What  is 
this  thing  for?"  "What  is  that  thing  for?"  "Who 
is  that  young  man  that's  writing  at  the  desk?  Why, 
I  declare,  it's  Jack  Bunce!  I  thought  he  was  sick." 
"Which  is  the  jury?  Why,  is  that  the  jury?  Billy 
Price  and  Job  Turner,  and  Jack  Lounsbury,  and 
—  well,  I  never!"  "Now  who  would  ever  V 
thought—" 

But  they  were  gently  called  to  order  at  this  point, 
and  asked  not  to  talk  in  court.  Their  tongues  fell 
silent,  but  the  radiant  interest  in  their  faces  re- 
mained, and  their  gratitude  for  the  blessing  of  a 
new  sensation  and  a  novel  experience  still  beamed 
undimmed  from  their  eyes.  Aunt  Patsy  stood  up 
and  took  the  oath,  and  Mr.  Allen  explained  the 
point  in  issue,  and  asked  her  to  go  on  now,  in  her 
own  way,  and  throw  as  much  light  upon  it  as  she 
could.  She  toyed  with  her  reticule  a  moment  or  two, 
as  if  considering  where  to  begin,  then  she  said: 

"Well,  the  way  of  it  is  this.  They  are  Luigi's 
legs  a  week  at  a  time,  and  then  they  are  Angelo's, 
and  he  can  do  whatever  he  wants  to  with  them." 

"You  are  making  a  mistake,  Aunt  Patsy  Cooper," 
said  the  Judge.  "You  shouldn't  state  that  as  a  fact, 
because  you  don't  know  it  to  be  a  fact." 

"What's  the  reason  I  don't?"  said  Aunt  Patsy, 
bridling  a  little. 

"What  is  the  reason  that  you  do  know  it?" 

"The  best  in  the  world — because  they  told  me." 

"That  isn't  a  reason." 

"Well,  for  the  land's  sake!  Betsy  Hale,  do  you 
hear  that?" 

263 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Hear  it?  I  should  think  so,"  said  Aunt  Betsy, 
rising  and  facing  the  court.  "Why,  Judge,  I  was 
there  and  heard  it  myself.  Luigi  says  to  Angelo — 
no,  it  was  Angelo  said  it  to — " 

"Come,  come,  Mrs.  Hale,  pray  sit  down,  and — 

"Certainly,  it's  all  right,  I'm  going  to  sit  down 
presently,  but  not  until  I've — 

"But  you  must  sit  down!" 

"Must!  Well,  upon  my  word  if  things  ain't 
getting  to  a  pretty  pass  when — 

The  house  broke  into  laughter,  but  was  promptly 
brought  to  order,  and  meantime  Mr.  Allen  persuaded 
the  old  lady  to  take  her  seat.  Aunt  Patsy  continued : 

"Yes,  they  told  me  that,  and  I  know  it's  true. 
They're  Luigi's  legs  this  week,  but — " 

"Ah,  they  told  you  that,  did  they?"  said  the 
Justice,  with  interest. 

"Well,  no,  I  don't  know  that  they  told  me,  but 
that's  neither  here  nor  there.  I  know,  without  that, 
that  at  dinner  yesterday,  Angelo  was  as  tired  as  a 
dog,  and  yet  Luigi  wouldn't  lend  him  the  legs  to  go 
up-stairs  and  take  a  nap  with." 

"Did  he  ask  for  them?" 

"Let  me  see — it  seems  to  me  somehow,  that — 
that — Aunt  Betsy,  do  you  remember  whether  he — " 

"Never  mind  about  what  Aunt  Betsy  remembers 
— she  is  not  a  witness;  we  only  want  to  know  what 
you  remember  yourself,"  said  the  Judge. 

"Well,  it  does  seem  to  me  that  you  are  most 
cantankerously  particular  about  a  little  thing,  Sim 
Robinson.  Why,  when  I  can't  remember  a  thing 
myself,  I  always — " 

264 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

"Ah,  please  go  on!" 

"Now  how  can  she  when  you  keep  fussing  at  her 
all  the  time?"  said  Aunt  Betsy.  "Why,  with  a 
person  pecking  at  me  that  way,  I  should  get  that 
fuzzled  and  fuddled  that—" 

She  was  on  her  feet  again,  but  Allen  coaxed  her 
into  her  seat  once  more,  while  the  court  squelched 
the  mirth  of  the  house.  Then  the  Judge  said : 

' '  Madam,  do  you  know  —  do  you  absolutely 
know,  independently  of  anything  these  gentlemen 
have  told  you — that  the  power  over  their  legs  passes 
from  the  one  to  the  other  regularly  every  week?" 

"Regularly?  Bless  your  heart,  regularly  ain't 
any  name  for  the  exactness  of  it !  All  the  big  cities 
in  Europe  used  to  set  the  clocks  by  it."  (Laughter, 
suppressed  by  the  court.} 

"How  do  you  know?  That  is  the  question. 
Please  answer  it  plainly  and  squarely." 

"Don't  you  talk  to  me  like  that,  Sim  Robinson — 
I  won't  have  it.  How  do  I  know,  indeed!  How 
do  you  know  what  you  know?  Because  somebody 
told  you.  You  didn't  invent  it  out;  of  your  own 
head,  did  you?  Why,  these  twins  are  the  truthful- 
est  people  in  the  world;  and  I  don't  think  it  be- 
comes you  to  sit  up  there  and  throw  slurs  at  them 
when  they  haven't  been  doing  anything  to  you. 
And  they  are  orphans  besides — both  of  them. 
All—" 

But  Aunt  Betsy  was  up  again  now,  and  both  old 

ladies  were  talking  at  once  and  with  all  their  might ; 

but  as  the  house  was  weltering  in  a  storm  of  laughter, 

and  the  Judge  was  hammering  his  desk  with  an  iron 

18  265 


MARK    TWAIN 

paper-weight,  one  could  only  see  them  talk,  not 
hear  them.  At  last,  when  quiet  was  restored,  the 
court  said : 

"Let  the  ladies  retire." 

"But,  your  honor,  I  have  the  right,  in  the  interest 
of  my  clients,  to  cross-exam — 

"You'll  not  need  to  exercise  it,  Mr.  Wilson — 
the  evidence  is  thrown  out." 

"Thrown  out!"  said  Aunt  Patsy,  ruffled;  "and 
what's  it  thrown  out  for,  I'd  like  to  know." 

"And  so  would  I,  Patsy  Cooper.  It  seems  to 
me  that  if  we  can  save  these  poor  persecuted  stran- 
gers, it  is  our  bounden  duty  to  stand  up  here  and  talk 
for  them  till—" 

"There,  there,  there,  do  sit  down!" 

It  cost  some  trouble  and  a  good  deal  of  coaxing, 
but  they  were  got  into  their  seats  at  last.  The  trial 
was  soon  ended  now.  The  twins  themselves  became 
witnesses  in  their  own  defense.  They  established 
the  fact,  upon  oath,  that  the  leg-power  passed  from 
one  to  the  other  every  Saturday  night  at  twelve 
o'clock  sharp.  But  on  cross-examination  their 
counsel  would  not  allow  them  to  tell  whose  week  of 
power  the  current  week  was.  The  Judge  insisted 
upon  their  answering,  and  proposed  to  compel  them, 
but  even  the  prosecution  took  fright  and  came  to 
the  rescue  then,  and  helped  stay  the  sturdy  jurist's 
revolutionary  hand.  So  the  case  had  to  go  to  the 
jury  with  that  important  point  hanging  in  the  air. 
They  were  out  an  hour  and  brought  in  this  verdict: 

"We  the  jury  do  find:  i,  that  an  assault  was 
committed,  as  charged;  2,  that  it  was  committed  by 
266 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

one  of  the  persons  accused,  he  having  been  seen  to 
do  it  by  several  credible  witnesses;  3,  but  that  his 
identity  is  so  merged  in  his  brother's  that  we  have 
not  been  able  to  tell  which  was  him.  We  cannot 
convict  both,  for  only  one  is  guilty.  We  cannot 
acquit  both,  for  only  one  is  innocent.  Our  verdict 
is  that  justice  has  been  defeated  by  the  dispensation 
of  God,  and  ask  to  be  discharged  from  further 
duty." 

This  was  read  aloud  in  court  and  brought  out  a 
burst  of  hearty  applause.  The  old  ladies  made  a 
spring  at  the  twins,  to  shake  and  congratulate,  but 
were  gently  disengaged  by  Mr.  Wilson  and  softly 
crowded  back  into  their  places. 

The  Judge  rose  in  his  little  tribune,  laid  aside  his 
silver-bowed  spectacles,  reached  his  gray  hair  up 
with  his  fingers,  and  said,  with  dignity  and  solemnity, 
and  even  with  a  certain  pathos: 

"In  all  my  experience  on  the  bench,  I  have  not 
seen  justice  bow  her  head  in  shame  in  this  court 
until  this  day.  You  little  realize  what  far-reaching 
harm  has  just  been  wrought  here  under  the  fickle 
forms  of  law.  Imitation  is  the  bane  of  courts — I 
thank  God  that  this  one  is  free  from  the  contamina- 
tion of  that  vice — and  in  no  long  time  you  will  see 
the  fatal  work  of  this  hour  seized  upon  by  profligate 
so-called  guardians  of  justice  in  all  the  wide  circum- 
stance of  this  planet  and  perpetuated  in  their  perni- 
cious decisions.  I  wash  my  hands  of  this  iniquity. 
I  would  have  compelled  these  culprits  to  expose 
their  guilt,  but  support  failed  me  where  I  had  most 
right  to  expect  aid  and  encouragement,  And  I  was 
267 


MARK     TWAIN 

confronted  by  a  law  made  in  the  interest  of  crime, 
which  protects  the  criminal  from  testifying  against 
himself.  Yet  I  had  precedents  of  my  own  whereby 
I  had  set  aside  that  law  on  two  different  occasions 
and  thus  succeeded  in  convicting  criminals  to  whose 
crimes  there  were  no  witnesses  but  themselves. 
What  have  you  accomplished  this  day?  Do  you 
realize  it?  You  have  set  adrift,  unadmonished,  in 
this  community,  two  men  endowed  with  an  awful 
and  mysterious  gift,  a  hidden  and  grisly  power  for 
evil — a  power  by  which  each  in  his  turn  may  com- 
mit crime  after  crime  of  the  most  heinous  character, 
and  no  man  be  able  to  tell  which  is  the  guilty  or 
which  the  innocent  party  in  any  case  of  them  all. 
Look  to  your  homes — look  to  your  property — look 
to  your  lives — f or  you  have  need ! 

"Prisoners  at  the  bar,  stand  up.  Through  sup- 
pression of  evidence,  a  jury  of  your — our — country- 
men have  been  obliged  to  deliver  a  verdict  con- 
cerning your  case  which  stinks  to  heaven  with  the 
rankness  of  its  injustice.  By  its  terms  you,  the 
guilty  one,  go  free  with  the  innocent.  Depart  in 
peace,  and  come  no  more !  The  costs  devolve  upon 
the  outraged  plaintiff — another  iniquity.  The  court 
stands  dissolved." 

Almost  everybody  crowded  forward  to  overwhelm 
the  twins  and  their  counsel  with  congratulations; 
but  presently  the  two  old  aunties  dug  the  duplicates 
out  and  bore  them  away  in  triumph  through  the 
hurrahing  crowd,  while  lots  of  new  friends  carried 
Pudd'nhead  Wilson  off  tavernward  to  feast  him 
and  "wet  down"  his  great  and  victorious  entry  into 
268 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

the  legal  arena.  To  Wilson,  so  long  familiar  with 
neglect  and  depreciation,  this  strange  new  incense 
of  popularity  and  admiration  was  as  a  fragrance 
blown  from  the  fields  of  paradise.  A  happy  man 
was  Wilson. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  deputation  came  in  the  evening  and  conferred  upon  Wilson 
the  welcome  honor  of  a  nomination  for  mayor;  for  the  village 
has  just  been  converted  into  a  city  by  charter.  Tom  skulks 
out  of  challenging  the  twins.  Judge  Driscoll  thereupon  chal- 
lenges Angelo  (accused  by  Tom  of  doing  the  kicking);  he  de- 
clines, but  Luigi  accepts  in  his  place  against  Angelo's  timid 
protest. 

IT  was  late  Saturday  night — nearing  eleven. 
The  Judge  and  his  second  found  the  rest  of 
the  war  party  at  the  further  end  of  the  vacant 
ground,  near  the  haunted  house.     Pudd'nhead  Wil- 
son advanced  to  meet  them,  and  said  anxiously: 

"I  must  say  a  word  in  behalf  of  my  principal's 
proxy,  Count  Luigi,  to  whom  you  have  kindly 
granted  the  privilege  of  fighting  my  principal's 
battle  for  him.  It  is  growing  late,  and  Count  Luigi 
is  in  great  trouble  lest  midnight  shall  strike  before 
the  finish." 

"It  is  another  testimony,"  said  Howard,  approv- 
ingly. "That  young  man  is  fine  all  through.  He 
wishes  to  save  his  brother  the  sorrow  of  fighting  on 
the  Sabbath,  and  he  is  right;  it  is  the  right  and 
manly  feeling  and  does  him  credit.  We  will  make 
all  possible  haste." 

Wilson  said:    "There  is  also  another  reason — a 
consideration,  in  fact,  which  deeply  concerns  Count 
270 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

Liiigi  himself.  These  twins  have  command  of  their 
mutual  legs  turn  about.  Count  Luigi  is  in  command 
now;  but  at  midnight,  possession  will  pass  to  my 
principal,  Count  Angelo,  and — well,  you  can  foresee 
what  will  happen.  He  will  march  straight  off  the 
field,  and  carry  Luigi  with  him." 

"Why!  sure  enough!"  cried  the  Judge,  "we  have 
heard  something  about  that  extraordinary  law  of 
their  being,  already — nothing  very  definite,  it  is 
true,  as  regards  dates  and  durations  of  power,  but  I 
see  it  is  definite  enough  as  regards  to-night.  Of 
course  we  must  give  Luigi  every  chance.  Omit  all 
the  ceremonial  possible,  gentlemen,  and  place  us  in 
position." 

The  seconds  at  once  tossed  up  a  coin;  Howard 
won  the  choice.  He  placed  the  Judge  sixty  feet 
from  the  haunted  house  and  facing  it ;  Wilson  placed 
the  twins  within  fifteen  feet  of  the  house  and  facing 
the  Judge — necessarily.  The  pistol-case  was  opened 
and  the  long  slim  tubes  taken  out ;  when  the  moon- 
light glinted  from  them  a  shiver  went  through 
Angelo.  The  doctor  was  a  fool,  but  a  thoroughly 
well-meaning  one,  with  a  kind  heart  and  a  sincere 
disposition  to  oblige,  but  along  with  it  an  absence  of 
tact  which  often  hurt  its  effectiveness.  He  brought 
his  box  of  lint  and  bandages,  and  asked  Angelo  to 
feel  and  see  how  soft  and  comfortable  they  were. 
Angelo's  head  fell  over  against  Luigi's  in  a  faint, 
and  precious  time  was  lost  in  bringing  him  to; 
which  provoked  Luigi  into  expressing  his  mind  to 
the  doctor  with  a  good  deal  of  vigor  and  frankness. 
After  Angelo  came  to  he  was  still  so  weak  that 
271 


MARK    TWAIN 

Luigi  was  obliged  to  drink  a  stiff  horn  of  brandy  to 
brace  him  up. 

The  seconds  now  stepped  at  once  to  their  posts,  half- 
way between  the  combatants,  one  of  them  on  each 
side  of  the  line  of  fire.  Wilson  was  to  count,  very 
deliberately,  ' '  One — two — three — fire ! — stop ! ' '  and 
the  duelists  could  bang  away  at  any  time  they  chose 
during  that  recitation,  but  not  after  the  last  word. 
Angelo  grew  very  nervous  when  he  saw  Wilson's  hand 
rising  slowly  into  the  air  as  a  sign  to  make  ready, 
and  he  leaned  his  head  against  Luigi's  and  said: 

"Oh,  please  take  me  away  from  here,  I  can't 
stay,  I  know  I  can't!" 

"What  in  the  world  are  you  doing?  Straighten 
up!  What's  the  matter  with  you? — you're  in  no 
danger — nobody's  going  to  shoot  at  you.  Straighten 
up,  I  tell  you!" 

Angelo  obeyed,  just  in  time  to  hear: 

"One—!" 

"Bang!"  Just  one  report,  and  a  little  tuft  of 
white  hair  floated  slowly  to  the  Judge's  feet  in  the 
moonlight.  The  Judge  did  not  swerve;  he  still 
stood  erect  and  motionless,  like  a  statue,  with  his 
pistol-arm  hanging  straight  down  at  his  side.  He 
was  reserving  his  fire. 

"Two—!" 

"Three—!" 

"Fire—!" 

Up  came  the  pistol-arm  instantly— Angelo  dodged 
with  the  report.  He  said  "Ouch!"  and  fainted 
again. 

The  doctor  examined  and  bandaged  the  wound. 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

It  was  of  no  consequence,  he  said — bullet  through 
fleshy  part  of  arm — no  bones  broken — the  gentle- 
man was  still  able  to  fight — let  the  duel  proceed. 

Next  time  Angelo  jumped  just  as  Luigi  fired, 
which  disordered  his  aim  and  caused  him  to  cut  a 
chip  out  of  Howard's  ear.  The  Judge  took  his  time 
again,  and  when  he  fired  Angelo  jumped  and  got  a 
knuckle  skinned.  The  doctor  inspected  and  dressed 
the  wounds.  Angelo  now  spoke  out  and  said  he 
was  content  with  the  satisfaction  he  had  got,  and  if 
the  Judge — but  Luigi  shut  him  roughly  up,  and 
asked  him  not  to  make  an  ass  of  himself;  adding: 

"And  I  want  you  to  stop  dodging.  You  take  a 
great  deal  too  prominent  a  part  in  this  thing  for  a 
person  who  has  got  nothing  to  do  with  it.  You 
should  remember  that  you  are  here  only  by  courtesy, 
and  are  without  official  recognition ;  officially  you  are 
not  here  at  all;  officially  you  do  not  even  exist. 
To  all  intents  and  purposes  you  are  absent  from  this 
place,  and  you  ought  for  your  own  modesty's  sake 
to  reflect  that  it  cannot  become  a  person  who  is  not 
present  here  to  be  taking  this  sort  of  public  and 
indecent  prominence  in  a  matter  in  which  he  is 
not  in  the  slightest  degree  concerned.  Now,  don't 
dodge  again;  the  bullets  are  not  for  you,  they  are 
for  me;  if  I  want  them  dodged  I  will  attend  to  it 
myself.  I  never  saw  a  person  act  so." 

Angelo  saw  the  reasonableness  of  what  his  brother 
had  said,  and  he  did  try  to  reform,  but  it  was  of  no 
use ;  both  pistols  went  off  at  the  same  instant,  and 
he  jumped  once  more;  he  got  a  sharp  scrape  along 
his  cheek  from  the  Judge's  bullet,  and  so  deflected 
273 


MARK    TWAIN 

Luigi's  aim  that  his  ball  went  wide  and  chipped  a 
flake  of  skin  from  Pudd'nhead  Wilson's  chin.  The 
doctor  attended  to  the  wounded. 

By  the  terms,  the  duel  was  over.  But  Luigi  was 
entirely  out  of  patience,  and  begged  for  one  more 
exchange  of  shots,  insisting  that  he  had  had  no  fair 
chance,  on  account  of  his  brother's  indelicate  be- 
havior. Howard  was  opposed  to  granting  so  un- 
usual a  privilege,  but  the  Judge  took  Luigi's  part, 
and  added  that  indeed  he  himself  might  fairly  be  con- 
sidered entitled  to  another  trial,  because  although 
the  proxy  on  the  other  side  was  in  no  way  to  blame 
for  his  (the  Judge's)  humiliatingly  resultless  work, 
the  gentleman  with  whom  he  was  fighting  this  duel 
was  to  blame  for  it,  since  if  he  had  played  no  ad- 
vantages and  had  held  his  head  still,  his  proxy 
would  have  been  disposed  of  early.  He  added: 

"Count  Luigi's  request  for  another  exchange  is 
another  proof  that  he  is  a  brave  and  chivalrous 
gentleman,  and  I  beg  that  the  courtesy  he  asks  may 
be  accorded  him." 

"I  thank  you  most  sincerely  for  this  generosity, 
Judge  Driscoll,"  said  Luigi,  with  a  polite  bow,  and 
moving  to  his  place.  Then  he  added — to  Angelo, 
"Now  hold  your  grip,  hold  your  grip,  I  tell  you,  and 
I'll  land  him  sure!" 

The  men  stood  erect,  their  pistol-arms  at  their 
sides,  the  two  seconds  stood  at  their  official  posts, 
the  doctor  stood  five  paces  in  Wilson's  rear  with  his 
instruments  and  bandages  in  his  hands.  The  deep 
stillness,  the  peaceful  moonlight,  the  motionless 
figures,  made  an  impressive  picture  and  the  impend- 
274 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

ing  fatal  possibilities  augmented  this  impressiveness 
to  solemnity.  Wilson's  hand  began  to  rise — slowly 
— slowly — higher — still  higher — in  another  moment : 

" Boom!" — the  first  stroke  of  midnight  swung  up 
out  of  the  distance;  Angelo  was  off  like  a  deer! 

"Oh,  you  unspeakable  traitor!"  wailed  his  brother, 
as  they  went  soaring  over  the  fence. 

The  others  stood  astonished  and  gazing;  and  so 
stood,  watching  that  strange  spectacle  until  dis- 
tance dissolved  it  and  swept  it  from  their  view. 
Then  they  rubbed  their  eyes  like  people  waking  out 
of  a  dream. 

"Well,  I've  never  seen  anything  like  that  be- 
fore!" said  the  Judge.  "Wilson,  I  am  going  to 
confess  now,  that  I  wasn't  quite  able  to  believe  in 
that  leg  business,  and  had  a  suspicion  that  it  was  a 
put-up  convenience  between  those  twins;  and  when 
Count  Angelo  fainted  I  thought  I  saw  the  whole 
scheme — thought  it  was  pretext  No.  i,  and  would 
be  followed  by  others  till  twelve  o'clock  should 
arrive,  and  Luigi  would  get  off  with  all  the  credit  of 
seeming  to  want  to  fight  and  yet  not  have  to  fight, 
after  all.  But  I  was  mistaken.  His  pluck  proved 
it.  He's  a  brave  fellow  and  did  want  to  fight." 

"There  isn't  any  doubt  about  that,"  said  Howard, 
and  added,  in  a  grieved  tone,  "but  what  an  un- 
worthy sort  of  Christian  that  Angelo  is — I  hope  and 
believe  there  are  not  many  like  him.  It  is  not  right 
to  engage  in  a  duel  on  the  Sabbath — I  could  not  ap- 
prove of  that  myself;  but  to  finish  one  that  has  been 
begun — that  is  a  duty,  let  the  day  be  what  it  may." 

They  strolled  along,  still  wondering,  still  talking, 
275 


MARK    TWAIN 

"It  is  a  curious  circumstance,"  remarked  the 
surgeon,  halting  Wilson  a  moment  to  paste  some 
more  court-plaster  on  his  chin,  which  had  gone  to 
leaking  blood  again,  "that  in  this  duel  neither  of 
the  parties  who  handled  the  pistols  lost  blood,  while 
nearly  all  the  persons  present  in  the  mere  capacity 
of  guests  got  hit.  I  have  not  heard  of  such  a  thing 
before.  Don't  you  think  it  unusual?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  Judge,  "it  has  struck  me  as 
peculiar.  Peculiar  and  unfortunate.  I  was  annoyed 
at  it,  all  the  time.  In  the  case  of  Angelo  it  made 
no  great  difference,  because  he  was  in  a  measure 
concerned,  though  not  officially;  but  it  troubled  me 
to  see  the  seconds  compromised,  and  yet  I  knew  no 
way  to  mend  the  matter." 

"There  was  no  way  to  mend  it,"  said  Howard, 
whose  ear  was  being  readjusted  now  by  the  doctor; 
"the  code  fixes  our  place,  and  it  would  not  have 
been  lawful  to  change  it.  If  we  could  have  stood  at 
your  side,  or  behind  you,  or  in  front  of  you,  it — 
but  it  would  not  have  been  legitimate  and  the  other 
parties  would  have  had  a  just  right  to  complain  of 
our  trying  to  protect  ourselves  from  danger;  in- 
fractions of  the  code  are  certainly  not  permissible  in 
any  case  whatever." 

Wilson  offered  no  remarks.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  there  was  very  little  place  here  for  so  much 
solemnity,  but  he  judged  that  if  a  duel  where  nobody 
was  in  danger  or  got  crippled  but  the  seconds  and 
the  outsiders  had  nothing  ridiculous  about  it  for 
these  gentlemen,  his  pointing  out  that  feature  would 
probably  not  help  them  to  see  it. 
276 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

He  invited  them  in  to  take  a  nightcap,  and 
Howard  and  the  Judge  accepted,  but  the  doctor 
said  he  would  have  to  go  and  see  how  Angelo's 
principal  wound  was  getting  on. 

[It  was  now  Sunday,  and  in  the  afternoon  Angelo  was  to  be 
received  into  the  Baptist  communion  by  immersion — a  doubtful 
prospect,  the  doctor  feared.] 


CHAPTER  VII 

WHEN  the  doctor  arrived  at  Aunt  Patsy 
Cooper's  house,  he  found  the  lights  going 
and  everybody  up  and  dressed  and  in  a  great 
state  of  solicitude  and  excitement.  The  twins  were 
stretched  on  a  sofa  in  the  sitting-room,  Aunt  Patsy 
was  fussing  at  Angelo's  arm,  Nancy  was  flying 
around  under  her  commands,  the  two  young  boys 
were  trying  to  keep  out  of  the  way  and  always 
getting  in  it,  in  order  to  see  and  wonder,  Rowena 
stood  apart,  helpless  with  apprehension  and  emo- 
tion, and  Luigi  was  growling  in  unappeasable  fury 
over  Angelo's  shameful  flight. 

As  has  been  reported  before,  the  doctor  was  a 
fool — a  kind-hearted  and  well-meaning  one,  but 
with  no  tact;  and  as  he  was  by  long  odds  the  most 
learned  physician  in  the  town,  and  was  quite  well 
aware  of  it,  and  could  talk  his  learning  with  ease 
and  precision,  and  liked  to  show  off  when  he  had  an 
audience,  he  was  sometimes  tempted  into  revealing 
more  of  a  case  than  was  good  for  the  patient. 

He  examined  Angelo's  wound,  and  was  really 
minded  to  say  nothing  for  once;  but  Aunt  Patsy 
was  so  anxious  and  so  pressing  that  he  allowed  his 
caution  to  be  overcome,  and  proceeded  to  empty 
himself  as  follows,  with  scientific  relish: 
278 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

"  Without  going  too  much  into  detail,  madam — 
for  you  would  probably  not  understand  it,  anyway 
— 1  concede  that  great  care  is  going  to  be  necessary 
here;  otherwise  exudation  of  the  esophagus  is 
nearly  sure  to  ensue,  and  this  will  be  followed  by 
ossification  and  extradition  of  the  maxillaris  superi- 
oris,  which  must  decompose  the  granular  surfaces  of 
the  great  infusorial  ganglionic  system,  thus  obstruct- 
ing the  action  of  the  posterior  varioloid  arteries,  and 
precipitating  compound  strangulated  sorosis  of  the 
valvular  tissues,  and  ending  unavoidably  in  the  dis- 
persion and  combustion  of  the  marsupial  fluxes  and 
the  consequent  embrocation  of  the  bicuspid  populo 
redax  referendum  rotulorum." 

A  miserable  silence  followed.  Aunt  Patsy's  heart 
sank,  the  pallor  of  despair  invaded  her  face,  she  was 
not  able  to  speak;  poor  Rowena  wrung  her  hands  in 
privacy  and  silence,  and  said  to  herself  in  the  bitter- 
ness of  her  young  grief,  "There  is  no  hope — it  is 
plain  there  is  no  hope";  the  good-hearted  negro 
wench,  Nancy,  paled  to  chocolate,  then  to  orange, 
then  to  amber,  and  thought  to  herself  with  yearning 
sympathy  and  sorrow,  "Po'  thing,  he  ain'  gwyne 
to  las'  throo  de  half  o'  dat";  small  Henry  choked 
up,  and  turned  his  head  away  to  hide  his  rising 
tears,  and  his  brother  Joe  said  to  himself,  with  a 
sense  of  loss,  "The  baptizing's  busted,  that's  sure." 
Luigi  was  the  only  person  who  had  any  heart  to 
speak.  He  said,  a  little  bit  sharply,  to  the  doctor: 

"Well,  well,  there's  nothing  to  be  gained  by 
wasting  precious  time;  give  him  a  barrel  of  pills — 
I'll  take  them  for  him." 

279 


MARK    TWAIN 

"You?"  asked  the  doctor. 

"Yes.  Did  yod  suppose  he  was  going  to  take 
them  himself?" 

"Why,  of  course." 

"Well,  it's  a  mistake.  He  never  took  a  dose  of 
medicine  in  his  life.  He  can't." 

"Well,  upon  my  word,  it's  the  most  extraordi- 
nary thing  I  ever  heard  of!" 

"Oh,"  said  Aunt  Patsy,  as  pleased  as  a  mother 
whose  child  is  being  admired  and  wondered  at, 
"you'll  find  that  there's  more  about  them  that's 
wonderful  than  their  just  being  made  in  the  image 
of  God  like  the  rest  of  His  creatures,  now  you  can 
depend  on  that,  7  tell  you,"  and  she  wagged  her 
complacent  head  like  one  who  could  reveal  marvel- 
ous things  if  she  chose. 

The  boy  Joe  began: 

"Why,  ma,  they  ain't  made  in  the  im — " 

"You  shut  up,  and  wait  till  you're  asked,  Joe. 
I'll  let  you  know  when  I  want  help.  Are  you  look- 
ing for  something,  doctor?" 

The  doctor  asked  for  a  few  sheets  of  paper  and  a 
pen,  and  said  he  would  write  a  prescription;  which 
he  did.  It  was  one  of  Galen's;  in  fact,  it  was 
Galen's  favorite,  and  had  been  slaj^ng  people  for 
sixteen  thousand  years.  Galen  used  it  for  every- 
thing, applied  it  to  everything,  said  it  would  remove 
everything,  from  warts  all  the  way  through  to  lungs 
— and  it  generally  did.  Galen  was  still  the  only 
medical  authority  recognized  in  Missouri;  his  prac- 
tice was  the  only  practice  known  to  the  Missouri 
doctors,  and  his  prescriptions  were  the  only  ammu- 
280 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

nition  they  carried  when  they  went  out  for  game. 
By  and  by  Dr.  Claypool  laid  down  his  pen  and  read 
the  result  of  his  labors  aloud,  carefully  and  deliber- 
ately, for  this  battery  must  be  constructed  on  the 
premises  by  the  family,  and  mistakes  could  occur; 
for  he  wrote  a  doctor's  hand — the  hand  which  from 
the  beginning  of  time  has  been  so  disastrous  to  the 
apothecary  and  so  profitable  to  the  undertaker: 

"Take  of  afarabocca,  henbane,  corpobalsamum, 
each  two  drams  and  a  half:  of  cloves,  opium, 
myrrh,  cyperus,  each  two  drams;  of  opobalsamum, 
Indian  leaf,  cinnamon,  zedoary,  ginger,  coftus, 
coral,  cassia,  euphorbium,  gum  tragacanth,  frankin- 
cense, styrax  calamita,  Celtic,  nard,  spignel,  hart- 
wort,  mustard,  saxifrage,  dill,  anise,  each  one  dram; 
of  xylaloes,  rheum  ponticum,  alipta,  moschata, 
castor,  spikenard,  galangals,  opoponax,  anacardium, 
mastich,  brimstone,  peony,  eringo,  pulp  of  dates, 
red  and  white  hermodactyls,  roses,  thyme,  acorns, 
pennyroyal,  gentian,  the  bark  of  the  root  of  man- 
drake, germander,  valerian,  bishop's  -  weed,  bay- 
berries,  long  and  white  pepper,  xylobalsamum, 
carnabadium,  macedonian,  parsley  seeds,  lovage,  the 
seeds  of  rue,  and  sinon,  of  each  a  dram  and  a  half; 
of  pure  gold,  pure  silver,  pearls  not  perforated,  the 
blatta  byzantina,  the  bone  of  the  stag's  heart,  of 
each  the  quantity  of  fourteen  grains  of  wheat;  of 
sapphire,  emerald  and  jasper  stones,  each  one  dram; 
of  hazel-nuts,  two  drams;  of  pellitory  of  Spain,  shav- 
ings of  ivory,  calamus  odoratus,  each  the  quantity 
of  twenty-nine  grains  of  wheat:  of  honey  or  sugar 
a  sufficient  quantity.  Boil  down  and  skim  off." 
19  281 


MARK    TWAIN 

"There,"  he  said,  "that  will  fix  the  patient;  give 
his  brother  a  dipperful  every  three-quarters  of  an 
hour — " 

— "while  he  survives,"  muttered  Lugui — 

— "and  see  that  the  room  is  kept  wholesomely 
hot,  and  the  doors  and  windows  closed  tight.  Keep 
Count  Angelo  nicely  covered  up  with  six  or  seven 
blankets,  and  when  he  is  thirsty — which  will  be 
frequently — moisten  a  rag  in  the  vapor  of  the  tea- 
kettle and  let  his  brother  suck  it.  When  he  is 
hungry — which  will  also  be  frequently — he  must 
not  be  humored  oftener  than  every  seven  or  eight 
hours;  then  toast  part  of  a  cracker  until  it  begins  to 
brown,  and  give  it  to  his  brother." 

"That  is  all  very  well,  as  far  as  Angelo  is  con- 
cerned," said  Luigi,  "but  what  am  I  to  eat?" 

"I  do  not  see  that  there  is  anything  the  matter 
with  you,"  the  doctor  answered,  "you  may,  of 
course,  eat  what  you  please." 

"And  also  drink  what  I  please,  I  suppose?" 

"Oh,  certainly — at  present.  When  the  violent 
and  continuous  perspiring  has  reduced  your  strength, 
I  shall  have  to  reduce  your  diet,  of  course,  and  also 
bleed  you,  but  there  is  no  occasion  for  that  yet 
awhile."  He  turned  to  Aunt  Patsy  and  said:  "He 
must  be  put  to  bed,  and  sat  up  with,  and  tended 
with  the  greatest  care,  and  not  allowed  to  stir  for 
several  days  and  nights." 

"For  one,  I'm  sacredly  thankful  for  that,"  said 
Luigi,  "it  postpones  the  funeral — I'm  not  to  be 
drowned  to-day,  anyhow." 

Angelo  said  quietly  to  the  doctor: 
282 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

"I  will  cheerfully  submit  to  all  your  require- 
ments, sir,  up  to  two  o'clock  this  afternoon,  and 
will  resume  them  after  three,  but  cannot  be  confined 
to  the  house  during  that  intermediate  hour." 

"Why,  may  I  ask?" 

"Because  I  have  entered  the  Baptist  communion, 
and  by  appointment  am  to  be  baptized  in  the  river 
at  that  hour." 

"Oh,  insanity! — it  cannot  be  allowed!" 

Angelo  answered  with  placid  firmness: 

"Nothing  shall  prevent  it,  if  I  am  alive." 

"Why,  consider,  my  dear  sir,  in  your  condition 
it  might  prove  fatal." 

A  tender  and  ecstatic  smile  beamed  from  Angelo's 
eyes,  and  he  broke  forth  in  a  tone  of  joyous  fervency : 

"Ah,  how  blessed  it  would  be  to  die  for  such  a 
cause — it  would  be  martyrdom!" 

"But  your  brother — consider  your  brother;  you 
would  be  risking  his  life,  too." 

"He  risked  mine  an  hour  ago,"  responded  Angelo, 
gloomily;  "did  he  consider  me?"  A  thought  swept 
through  his  mind  that  made  him  shudder.  "If  I 
had  not  run,  I  might  have  been  killed  in  a  duel  on 
the  Sabbath  day,  and  my  soul  would  have  been  lost 
—lost." 

"Oh,  don't  fret,  it  wasn't  in  any  danger,"  said 
Luigi,  irritably;  "they  wouldn't  waste  it  for  a  little 
thing  like  that;  there's  a  glass  case  all  ready  for  it 
in  the  heavenly  museum,  and  a  pin  to  stick  it  up 
with." 

Aunt  Patsy  was  shocked,  and  said: 

"Looy,  Looy! — don't  talk  so,  dear!" 
283 


MARK    TWAIN 

Rowena's  soft  heart  was  pierced  by  Luigi's  un- 
feeling words,  and  she  murmured  to  herself,  "Oh, 
if  I  but  had  the  dear  privilege  of  protecting  and 
defending  him  with  my  weak  voice! — but  alas!  this 
sweet  boon  is  denied  me  by  the  cruel  conventions  of 
social  intercourse." 

"Get  their  bed  ready,"  said  Aunt  Patsy  to 
Nancy,  "and  shut  up  the  windows  and  doors,  and 
light  their  candles,  and  see  that  you  drive  all  the 
mosquitoes  out  of  their  bar,  and  make  up  a  good 
fire  in  their  stove,  and  carry  up  some  bags  of  hot 
ashes  to  lay  to  his  feet — " 

— "and  a  shovel  of  fire  for  his  head,  and  a  mus- 
tard plaster  for  his  neck,  and  some  gum  shoes  for 
his  ears,"  Luigi  interrupted,  with  temper;  and 
added,  to  himself,  "Damnation,  I'm  going  to  be 
roasted  alive,  I  just  know  it!" 

"Why,  Looy!  Do  be  quiet;  I  never  saw  such 
a  fractious  thing.  A  body  would  think  you  didn't 
care  for  your  brother." 

"I  don't — to  that  extent,  Aunt  Patsy.  I  was 
glad  the  drowning  was  postponed  a  minute  ago,  but 
I'm  not  now.  No,  that  is  all  gone  by;  I  want  to 
be  drowned." 

"You'll  bring  a  judgment  on  yourself  just  as  sure 
as  you  live,  if  you  go  on  like  that.  Why,  I  never 
heard  the  beat  of  it.  Now,  there — there!  you've 
said  enough.  Not  another  word  out  of  you — I 
won't  have  it!" 

"But,  Aunt  Patsy—" 

"Luigi!     Didn't  you  hear  what  I  told  you?" 

"But,  Aunt  Patsy,  I — why,  I'm  not  going  to 
284 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

set  my  heart  and  lungs  afloat  in  that  pail  of  sewage 
which  this  criminal  here  has  been  prescri — " 

"Yes,  you  are,  too.  You  are  going  to  be  good, 
and  do  everything  I  tell  you,  like  a  dear,"  and  she 
tapped  his  cheek  affectionately  with  her  finger. 
"Rowena,  take  the  prescription  and  go  in  the 
kitchen  and  hunt  up  the  things  and  lay  them  out 
for  me.  I'll  sit  up  with  my  patient  the  rest  of  the 
night,  doctor;  I  can't  trust  Nancy,  she  couldn't 
make  Luigi  take  the  medicine.  Of  course,  you'll 
drop  in  again  during  the  day.  Have  you  got  any 
more  directions?" 

"No,  I  believe  not,  Aunt  Patsy.  If  I  don't  get 
in  earlier,  I'll  be  along  by  early  candle-light,  anyway. 
Meantime,  don't  allow  him  to  get  out  of  his  bed." 

Angelo  said,  with  calm  determination : 

"I  shall  be  baptized  at  two  o'clock.  Nothing 
but  death  shall  prevent  me." 

The  doctor  said  nothing  aloud,  but  to  himself  he 
said: 

"Why,  this  chap's  got  a  manly  side,  after  all! 
Physically  he's  a  coward,  but  morally  he's  a  lion. 
I'll  go  and  tell  the  others  about  this;  it  will  raise 
him  a  good  deal  in  their  estimation — and  the  public 
will  follow  their  lead,  of  course." 

Privately,  Aunt  Patsy  applauded  too,  and  was 
proud  of  Angelo's  courage  in  the  moral  field  as  she 
was  of  Luigi's  in  the  field  of  honor. 

The  boy  Henry  was  troubled,  but  the  boy  Joe 
said,  inaudibly,  and  gratefully,  "We're  all  hunky, 
after  all;  and  no  postponement  on  account  of  the 
weather." 

285 


CHAPTER  VIII 

BY  nine  o'clock  the  town  was  humming  with  the 
news  of  the  midnight  duel,  and  there  were  but 
two  opinions  about  it:  one,  that  Luigi's  pluck  in 
the  field  was  most  praiseworthy  and  Angelo's  flight 
most  scandalous;  the  other,  that  Angelo's  courage 
in  flying  the  field  for  conscience'  sake  was  as  fine 
and  creditable  as  was  Luigi's  in  holding  the  field  in 
the  face  of  the  bullets.  The  one  opinion  was  held 
by  half  of  the  town,  the  other  one  was  maintained 
by  the  other  half.  The  division  was  clean  and 
exact,  and  it  made  two  parties,  an  Angelo  party 
and  a  Luigi  party.  The  twins  had  suddenly  become 
popular  idols  along  with  Pudd'nhead  Wilson,  and 
haloed  with  a  glory  as  intense  as  his.  The  children 
talked  the  duel  all  the  way  to  Sunday-school,  their 
elders  talked  it  all  the  way  to  church,  the  choir  dis- 
cussed it  behind  their  red  curtain,  it  usurped  the 
place  of  pious  thought  in  the  "nigger  gallery." 

By  noon  the  doctor  had  added  the  news,  and 
spread  it,  that  Count  Angelo,  in  spite  of  his  wound 
and  all  warnings  and  supplications,  was  resolute  in 
his  determination  to  be  baptized  at  the  hour  ap- 
pointed. This  swept  the  town  like  wildfire,  and 
mightily  reinforced  the  enthusiasm  of  the  Angelo 
faction,  who  said,  "If  any  doubted  that  it  was 
286 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

moral  courage  that  took  him  from  the  field,  what 
have  they  to  say  now!" 

Still  the  excitement  grew.  All  the  morning  it  was 
traveling  countryward,  toward  all  points  of  the 
compass;  so,  whereas  before  only  the  farmers  and 
their  wives  were  intending  to  come  and  witness  the 
remarkable  baptism,  a  general  holiday  was  now 
proclaimed  and  the  children  and  negroes  admitted 
to  the  privileges  of  the  occasion.  All  the  farms  for 
ten  miles  around  were  vacated,  all  the  converging 
roads  emptied  long  processions  of  wagons,  horses, 
and  yeomanry  into  the  town.  The  pack  and  cram 
of  people  vastly  exceeded  any  that  had  ever  been 
seen  in  that  sleepy  region  before.  The  only  thing 
that  had  ever  even  approached  it,  was  the  time 
long  gone  by,  but  never  forgotten,  nor  even  referred 
to  without  wonder  and  pride,  when  two  circuses  and 
a  Fourth  of  July  fell  together.  But  the  glory  of  that 
occasion  was  extinguished  now  for  good.  It  was 
but  a  freshet  to  this  deluge. 

The  great  invasion  massed  itself  on  the  river-bank 
and  waited  hungrily  for  the  immense  event.  Waited, 
and  wondered  if  it  would  really  happen,  or  if  the 
twin  who  was  not  a  "professor"  would  stand  out 
and  prevent  it. 

But  they  were  not  to  be  disappointed.  Angelo 
was  as  good  as  his  word.  He  came  attended  by  an 
escort  of  honor  composed  of  several  hundred  of  the 
best  citizens,  all  of  the  Angelo  party;  and  when  the 
immersion  was  finished  they  escorted  him  back  home : 
and  would  even  have  carried  him  on  their  shoulders, 
but  that  people  might  think  they  were  carrying  Luigi. 
287 


MARK    TWAIN 

Far  into  the  night  the  citizens  continued  to  discuss 
and  wonder  over  the  strangely  mated  pair  of  inci- 
dents that  had  distinguished  and  exalted  the  past 
twenty- four  hours  above  any  other  twenty -four  in  the 
history  of  their  town  for  picturesqueness  and  splen- 
did interest ;  and  long  before  the  lights  were  out  and 
burghers  asleep  it  had  been  decided  on  all  hands  that 
in  capturing  these  twins  Dawson's  Landing  had  drawn 
a  prize  in  the  great  lottery  of  municipal  fortune. 

At  midnight  Angelo  was  sleeping  peacefully.  His 
immersion  had  not  harmed  him,  it  had  merely  made 
him  wholesomely  drowsy,  and  he  had  been  dead 
asleep  many  hours  now.  It  had  made  Luigi  drowsy, 
too,  but  he  had  got  only  brief  naps,  on  account  of 
his  having  to  take  the  medicine  every  three-quarters 
of  an  hour — and  Aunt  Betsy  Hale  was  there  to  see 
that  he  did  it.  When  he  complained  and  resisted, 
she  was  quietly  firm  with  him,  and  said  in  a  low 
voice : 

"No — no,  that  won't  do;  you  mustn't  talk,  and 
you  mustn't  retch  and  gag  that  way,  either — you'll 
wake  up  your  poor  brother." 

"Well,  what  of  it,  Aunt  Betsy,  he—" 

"  'Sh-h!  Don't  make  a  noise,  dear.  You  mustn't 
forget  that  your  poor  brother  is  sick  and — " 

"Sick,  is  he?    Well,  I  wish  I—" 

"'Sh-h-h!  Will  you  be  quiet,  Luigi!  Here,  now, 
take  the  rest  of  it — don't  keep  me  holding  the  dip- 
per all  night.  I  declare  if  you  haven't  left  a  good 
fourth  of  it  in  the  bottom!  Come — that's  a  good 
boy." 

"Aunt  Betsy,  don't  make  me!  I  feel  like  I've 
288 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

swallowed  a  cemetery;  I  do,  indeed.  Do  let  me 
rest  a  little — just  a  little;  I  can't  take  any  more  of 
the  devilish  stuff  now." 

"Luigi!  Using  such  language  here,  and  him  just 
baptized!  Do  you  want  the  roof  to  fall  on  you?" 

"I  wish  to  goodness  it  would!" 

"Why,  you  dreadful  thing!  I've  a  good  notion 
to — let  that  blanket  alone;  do  you  want  your 
brother  to  catch  his  death?" 

"Aunt  Betsy,  I've  got  to  have  it  off,  I'm  being 
roasted  alive;  nobody  could  stand  it — you  couldn't 
yourself." 

"Now,  then,  you're  sneezing  again — I  just  ex- 
pected it." 

"Because  I've  caught  a  cold  in  my  head.  I 
always  do,  when  I  go  in  the  water  with  my  clothes 
on.  And  it  takes  me  weeks  to  get  over  it,  too.  I 
think  it  was  a  shame  to  serve  me  so." 

"Luigi,  you  are  unreasonable;  you  know  very 
well  they  couldn't  baptize  him  dry.  I  should  think 
you  would  be  willing  to  undergo  a  little  inconve- 
nience for  your  brother's  sake." 

' '  Inconvenience !  Now  how  you  talk,  Aunt  Betsy. 
I  came  as  near  as  anything  to  getting  drowned — 
you  saw  that  yourself;  and  do  you  call  this  incon- 
venience?— the  room  shut  up  as  tight  as  a  drum, 
and  so  hot  the  mosquitoes  are  trying  to  get  out; 
and  a  cold  in  the  head,  and  dying  for  sleep  and  no 
chance  to  get  any  on  account  of  this  infamous 
medicine  that  that  assassin  prescri — " 

"There,  you're  sneezing  again.     I'm  going  down 
and  mix  some  more  of  this  truck  for  you,  dear." 
289 


CHAPTER  IX 

DURING  Monday,  Tuesday,  and  Wednesday  the 
twins  grew  steadily  worse;  but  then  the  doctor 
was  summoned  South  to  attend  his  mother's  funeral, 
and  they  got  well  in  forty-eight  hours.  They  ap- 
peared on  the  street  on  Friday,  and  were  welcomed 
with  enthusiasm  by  the  new-born  parties,  the  Luigi 
and  Angelo  factions.  The  Luigi  faction  carried  its 
strength  into  the  Democratic  party,  the  Angelo  fac- 
tion entered  into  a  combination  with  the  Whigs. 
The  Democrats  nominated  Luigi  for  alderman  under 
the  new  city  government,  and  the  Whigs  put  up 
Angelo  against  him.  The  Democrats  nominated 
Pudd'nhead  Wilson  for  ma}^or,  and  he  was  left 
alone  in  this  glory,  for  the  Whigs  had  no  man  who 
was  willing  to  enter  the  lists  against  such  a  formi- 
dable opponent.  No  politician  had  scored  such  a 
compliment  as  this  before  in  the  history  of  the 
Mississippi  Valley. 

The  political  campaign  in  Dawson's  Landing 
opened  in  a  pretty  warm  fashion,  and  waxed  hotter 
every  week.  Luigi's  whole  heart  was  in  it,  and  even 
Angelo  developed  a  surprising  amount  of  interest — 
which  was  natural,  because  he  was  not  merely  repre- 
senting Whigism,  a  matter  of  no  consequence  to 
him,  but  he  was  representing  something  immensely 
290 


THOSE    EXTRAORDINARY    TWINS 

finer  and  greater — to  wit,  Reform.  In  him  was 
centered  the  hopes  of  the  whole  reform  element  of 
the  town;  he  was  the  chosen  and  admired  cham- 
pion of  every  clique  that  had  a  pet  reform  of  any 
sort  or  kind  at  heart.  He  was  president  of  the  great 
Teetotalers'  Union,  its  chiefest  prophet  and  mouth- 
piece. 

But  as  the  canvass  went  on,  troubles  began  to 
spring  up  all  around — troubles  for  the  twins,  and 
through  them  for  all  the  parties  and  segments  and 
factions  of  parties.  Whenever  Luigi  had  possession 
of  the  legs,  he  carried  Angelo  to  balls,  rum  shops, 
Sons  of  Liberty  parades,  horse-races,  campaign 
riots,  and  everywhere  else  that  could  damage  him 
with  his  party  and  the  church;  and  when  it  was 
Angelo 's  week  he  carried  Luigi  diligently  to  all 
manner  of  moral  and  religious  gatherings,  doing  his 
best  to  regain  the  ground  he  had  lost  before.  As 
a  result  of  these  double  performances,  there  was  a 
storm  blowing  all  the  time,  an  ever-rising  storm, 
too — a  storm  of  frantic  criticism  of  the  twins,  and 
rage  over  their  extravagant,  incomprehensible  con- 
duct. 

Luigi  had  the  final  chance.  The  legs  were  his  for 
the  closing  week  of  the  canvass.  He  led  his  brother 
a  fearful  dance. 

But  he  saved  his  best  card  for  the  very  eve  of  the 
election.  There  was  to  be  a  grand  turnout  of  the 
Teetotalers'  Union  that  day,  and  Angelo  was  to 
march  at  the  head  of  the  procession  and  deliver  a 
great  oration  afterward.  Luigi  drank  a  couple  of 
glasses  of  whisky — which  steadied  his  nerves  and 
291 


MARK    TWAIN 

clarified  his  mind,  but  made  Angelo  drunk.  Every- 
body who  saw  the  march,  saw  that  the  Champion  of 
the  Teetotalers  was  half  seas  over,  and  noted  also 
that  his  brother,  who  made  no  hypocritical  preten- 
sions to  extra  temperance  virtues,  was  dignified  and 
sober.  This  eloquent  fact  could  not  be  unfruitful  at 
the  end  of  a  hot  political  canvass.  At  the  mass- 
meeting  Angelo  tried  to  make  his  great  temperance 
oration,  but  was  so  discommoded  by  hiccoughs  and 
thickness  of  tongue  that  he  had  to  give  it  up;  then 
drowsiness  overtook  him  and  his  head  drooped 
against  Luigi's  and  he  went  to  sleep.  Luigi  apolo- 
gized for  him,  and  was  going  on  to  improve  his  op- 
portunity with  an  appeal  for  a  moderation  of  what 
he  called  "the  prevailing  teetotal  madness,"  but 
persons  in  the  audience  began  to  howl  and  throw 
things  at  him,  and  then  the  meeting  rose  in  wrath 
and  chased  him  home. 

This  episode  was  a  crusher  for  Angelo  in  another 
way.  It  destroyed  his  chances  with  Rowena.  Those 
chances  had  been  growing,  right  along,  for  two 
months.  Rowena  had  partly  confessed  that  she 
loved  him,  but  wanted  time  to  consider.  Now  the 
tender  dream  was  ended,  and  she  told  him  so  the 
moment  he  was  sober  enough  to  understand.  She 
said  she  would  never  marry  a  man  who  drank. 

"But  I  don't  drink,"  he  pleaded. 

"That  is  nothing  to  the  point,"  she  said,  coldly, 
"you  get  drunk,  and  that  is  worse." 

[There  was  a  long  and  sufficiently  idiotic  discussion  here,  which 
ended  as  reported  in  a  previous  note.] 

.292 


CHAPTER  X 

DAWSON'S  LANDING  had  a  week  of  repose, 
after  the  election,  and  it  needed  it,  for  the 
frantic  and  variegated  nightmare  which  had  tor- 
mented it  all  through  the  preceding  week  had  left  it 
limp,  haggard,  and  exhausted  at  the  end.  It  got  the 
week  of  repose  because  Angelo  had  the  legs,  and 
was  in  too  subdued  a  condition  to  want  to  go  out 
and  mingle  with  an  irritated  community  that  had 
come  to  distrust  and  detest  him  because  there  was 
such  a  lack  of  harmony  between  his  morals,  which 
were  confessedly  excellent,  and  his  methods  of 
illustrating  them,  which  were  distinctly  damnable. 
The  new  city  officers  were  sworn  in  on  the  follow- 
ing Monday — at  least  all  but  Luigi.  There  was  a 
complication  in  his  case.  His  election  was  con- 
ceded, but  he  could  not  sit  in  the  board  of  aldermen 
without  his  brother,  and  his  brother  could  not  sit 
there  because  he  was  not  a  member.  There  seemed 
to  be  no  way  out  of  the  difficulty  but  to  carry  the 
matter  into  the  courts,  so  this  was  resolved  upon. 
The  case  was  set  for  the  Monday  fortnight.  In  due 
course  the  time  arrived.  In  the  mean  time  the  city 
government  had  been  at  a  standstill,  because  with- 
out Luigi  there  was  a  tie  in  the  board  of  aldermen, 
whereas  with  him  the  liquor  interest — the  richest  in 
293 


MARK    TWAIN 

the  political  field — would  have  one  majority.  But 
the  court  decided  that  Angelo  could  not  sit  in  the 
board  with  him,  either  in  public  or  executive  ses- 
sions, and  at  the  same  time  forbade  the  board  to 
deny  admission  to  Luigi,  a  fairly  and  legally  chosen 
alderman.  The  case  was  carried  up  and  up  from 
court  to  court,  yet  still  the  same  old  original  de- 
cision was  confirmed  every  time.  As  a  result,  the 
city  government  not  only  stood  still,  with  its  hands 
tied,  but  everything  it  was  created  to  protect  and 
care  for  went  a  steady  gait  toward  rack  and  ruin. 
There  was  no  way  to  levy  a  tax,  so  the  minor  officials 
had  to  resign  or  starve;  therefore  they  resigned. 
There  being  no  city  money,  the  enormous  legal 
expenses  on  both  sides  had  to  be  defrayed  by  private 
subscription.  But  at  last  the  people  came  to  their 
senses,  and  said : 

"Pudd'nhead  was  right  at  the  start — we  ought  to 
have  hired  the  official  half  of  that  human  phillipene 
to  resign;  but  it's  too  late  now;  some  of  us  haven't 
got  anything  left  to  hire  him  with." 

"Yes,  we  have,"  said  another  citizen,  "we've  got 
this" — and  he  produced  a  halter. 

Many  shouted:  "That's  the  ticket."  But  others 
said:  "No— Count  Angelo  is  innocent;  we  mustn't 
hang  him." 

"Who  said  anything  about  hanging  him?  We 
are  only  going  to  hang  the  other  one." 

"Then  that  is  all  right — there  is  no  objection  to 
that." 

So  they  hanged  Luigi.     And  so  ends  the  history 
of  "Those  Extraordinary  Twins." 
294 


FINAL  REMARKS 

As  you  see,  it  was  an  extravagant  sort  of  a  tale, 
and  had  no  purpose  but  to  exhibit  that  monstrous 
"freak"  in  all  sorts  of  grotesque  lights.  But  when 
Roxy  wandered  into  the  tale  she  had  to  be  furnished 
with  something  to  do;  so  she  changed  the  children 
in  the  cradle;  this  necessitated  the  invention  of  a 
reason  for  it;  this,  in  turn,  resulted  in  making  the 
children  prominent  personages — nothing  could  pre- 
vent it,  of  course.  Their  career  began  to  take  a 
tragic  aspect,  and  some  one  had  to  be  brought  in  to 
help  work  the  machinery;  so  Pudd'nhead  Wilson 
was  introduced  and  taken  on  trial.  By  this  time  the 
whole  show  was  being  run  by  the  new  people  and  in 
their  interest,  and  the  original  show  was  become 
side-tracked  and  forgotten;  the  twin-monster,  and 
the  heroine,  and  the  lads,  and  the  old  ladies  had 
dwindled  to  inconsequentialities  and  were  merely  in 
the  way.  Their  story  was  one  story,  the  new  peo- 
ple's story  was  another  story,  and  there  was  no  con- 
nection between  them,  no  interdependence,  no  kin- 
ship. It  is  not  practicable  or  rational  to  try  to  tell 
two  stories  at  the  same  time;  so  I  dug  out  the 
farce  and  left  the  tragedy. 

The  reader  already  knew  how  the  expert  works; 
he  knows  now  how  the  other  kind  do  it. 

MARK  TWAIN. 
295 


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